Running The Race

by Mary Wacaster

We start out to run the race,
Head held high as we set the pace.
Hopes of winning
Without sinning
A glow of peace upon the face.

Mile upon mile we run,
Pressing forward to be done.
One foot out; and then another,
Side beside a dear brother;
A glorious crown to be won.

Water passed along the way
From friends that shout and say
Hold on; run straight;
Maintain your gait;
Victory will be yours someday.

Soon the wind stings the face.
Blinding trail without trace.
Footsteps falter;
Our gait we alter;
We seek sufficiency of Grace.

Running firm, the strength we find
Makes the miles; weakens the grind.
Looking up
We see the cup,
Of honor within our mind.

Soon the breezes mildly blow,
And freshens sweet as on we go.
We see His face;
We've won the race:
Then His rest God will bestow!