Analysis of Racing Home

My life's been a sprint, short and sweet,
oft times I have wondered, why compete.
Why run the race, I surely can't win.
Time is the judge, and is known to cheat.

Sure there are stories, if you believe,
miracles told, from death a reprieve.
Never a saint, I know the score,
a sucker's certain bet, I'll never receive.

Playing a marked deck, God deals the hand.
Made in his image, he understands.
Giving you reason, now make your choice.
Gambling it all, I stray from his plan.

My energy now spent, I wish to rest.
I'd love to say, I've done my best.
My savior walks with me, way is made.
Unworthy to the last, I know I am blessed.