The stage was set, the starting line pulled,
And thousands of racers where preparing to go.
No ordinary race, but one with a bid,
Fall into torment, or finish and live.
In the mob of strong and fit men,
Stands a young racer, who's trembling instead.
"The race is so far, and I don't feel that strong.
My confidence wavers. Can I go for that long?"
But then the bell chimed, It was now time to run,
The mob surged forward, and the man was just one.
"Lord be with me." The man said under his breath,
Then he exhaled strong, and took his first step.
For hours the racers fell by the side,
As those who were strong
Became weak in there minds.
And sin, the most vigorous competitor of all,
Grabbed at the racers and caused them to fall.
The man felt exhausted, could he really last,
The mightiest athletes he had already past.
So another fast prayer he said in his head,

"If you've chosen me, give me strength over sin.
Give me the endurance to finish the race,
To run from my sin and take in first place."
As he prayed, he felt courage within,
He leaned over strong and sprinted again.
He passed sin up with a valient charge,
And there was the finish line, looming massive and large.
This was the end, it was down to just two,
And sin was coming on strong, the man didn't know what to do.
He felt a hand grab him, and he almost fell down,
But he kept his eyes on the prize, his heart started to pound.
"Lord, if I'm chosen, be my might in this day."
And just as he said it, his arms pulled away.
He lunged for the end, and the rope was torn.
Then came a shout, a trumpet, a horn.
He made it to the end, he now had been saved.
And as the angels rejoiced, he was awed and amazed.
Then he felt a gentle hand pull him aside.
"Well done my child, I'll now call you mine."