Author: Unknown

 

My life is but a weaving between the Lord and me

I may not choose the colors, he knows what they should be

For He can view the pattern, upon the upper side

While I can see it only on this, the under side

 

Sometimes He weaveth sorrow, which seemeth strange to me

But I will trust His judgment and work on faithfully

’tis He who fills the shuttle and He knows what is best

So I shall weave in earnest leaving to Him the rest

 

Not till the loom is silent and the shuttles cease to fly

Shall God unroll the canvas and explain the reason why

The dark threads are as need in the Weaver’s skillful hand

As the threads of fold and silver in the pattern He has planned.

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