Thank Fate For Foes! I Hold Mine Dear As Valued Friends. He Cannot Know The Zest Of Life Who Runneth Here His Earthly Race Without A Foe. I Saw A Prize. "Run," Cried My Friend; "'Tis Thine To Claim Without A Doubt." But Ere I Half-Way Reached The End, I Felt My Strength Was Giving Out. My Foe Looked On The While I Ran; A Scornful Triumph Lit His Eyes. With That Perverseness Born In Man, I Nerved Myself, And Won The Prize. All Blinded By The Crimson Glow Of Sin'S Disguise, I Tempted Fate. "I Knew Thy Weakness!" Sneered My Foe, I Saved Myself, And Balked His Hate. For Half My Blessings, Half My Gain, I Needs Must Thank My Trusty Foe; Despite His Envy And Disdain, He Serves Me Well Where'Er I Go. So May I Keep Him To The End, Nor May His Enmity Abate: More Faithful Than The Fondest Friend, He Guards Me Ever With His Hate.