Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Get Up and Win the Race

They all lined up so full of hope
Each thought to win the race.
Or tie for first, or if not that,
At least take second place.

And fathers watched from the side
Each cheering for his son
And each boy hoped to show his dad
That HE would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they went
Young hearts and hopes afire
To win and be the hero there
Was each young boy’s desire

And one boy in particular
Whose father was in the crowd
Was running near the lead and thought:
“My father will be proud”

But as they sped down the field
Across a shallow dip
The little boy who thought to win
Lost his step and slipped!

Trying hard to catch himself
His hands flew out to brace
And mid the laughter of the crowd

So down he fell and with him hope
He couldn’t win it now
Embarrassed, and he only wished
To disappear somehow

But as he fell his father stood
And showed his anxious face
Which to the boy so clearly said:

He quickly rose, no damage done
Behind a bit that’s all
And ran with all his mind and might
To make up for his fall

So anxious to restore himself
To catch up and to win
His mind went faster than his legs

He wished then that he had quit before
With only one disgrace
“I’m hopeless as a runner, now;
I shouldn’t try to race”

But in the laughing crowed he searched
And found his fathers face
That steady look which said again:
“Get up and win the race!”

So up he jumped to try again
Ten yards behind the last
“If I’m to gain those yards,” He thought
“I’ve got to move real fast.”

Exerting everything he had
He regained eight or ten
But trying so hard to catch the lead
DEFEAT! He lied there silently
A tear dropped from his eye
“There’s no sense running anymore”
“Three strikes, I’m out; Why try?”

The will to rise had disappeared
All hope had fled away
So far behind; So error prone
A LOSER all the way.

“I’ve lost, so what’s the use,” He thought
“I’ll live with my disgrace”
But then he thought of his father
Who soon he’d have to face

“Get Up” An echo sounded low
“Get up and take your place,
You were not meant for failure here
Get up and win the race”

“With borrowed will get up” he heard
“You haven’t lost at all
For winning is no more than this:
To rise each time you fall”

So up he rose to run once more
And with a new commit
He resolved that win or lose
At least he wouldn’t quit

Three times he he’d fallen, stumbling,
Three times he rose again
Too far behind to hope to win
He still ran to the end

They cheered the winning runner
As he crossed the line first place.
Head high, and proud, and happy
No falling; no disgrace

But when the fallen youngster
Crossed the line last place,
The crowd gave him a great big cheer
For finishing the race

And even though he came in last
With head bowed low, unproud,
You would have thought he won the race
To listen to the crowd

And to his father he sadly said
“I didn’t do too well”
“To me, you won,” his father said
“You rose each time you fell”


And now when life seems dark and hard
And difficult to face
Thinking of that little boy
Helps me in my race

“Quit, give up, You’re beaten!”
They still shout in my face
But I listen to my Father say:
“Get up and win the race!”

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