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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