The Weaver
Here is an excellent poem. May we but realize that we are in the weaver's hands and He knows the outcome.
The Weaver
My life is but a weaving
Between my Lord and me,
I cannot choose the colors
He worketh steadily
Ofttimes He weaveth sorrow
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I, the underside.
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
The above was used in our Pattern for Living theme
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