I run this race with wobbly steps,
It's the devil's trick and evil plans,
To keep me chained in his world of doom,
When the saints will be enjoying the boom.
Anoint my feet with your oil of speed,
And grant me grace to hear and heed,
The warning of the end time harbinger,
And escape the impending danger.
With the prize of eternal life in view,
Keep me going with the racing crew,
Lest I falter, and lose the flight,
That should take me to greater height.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem