“The Plan of the Master Weaver” poem

My wife brought this poem to my attention. It holds special meaning for her since she is a weaver. I feel similarly having watched her utilize her skills in working with a loom.

The Plan of the Master Weaver

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 needed

In the Weaver’s skillful hand

As the threads of gold and silver

In the pattern He has planned.

(author is apparently unknown)

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