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 seems strange to me;
But I will trust His judgment
Amd work on faithfully.
'Tis He who fills the shuttle;
He knows just what is best;
So I shall weave in earnest
And leave with 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 needful,
In the weaver's skillful hand,
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.
Grant Colfax Tuller
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