Friday, August 16, 2013

The Weaver Poem

My life is but a weaving, between the Lord and me.
I cannot choose the colors, He worketh steadily.

Often times He weaveth sorrow and in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper, and I the underside.

The dark threads are as needful in the Weaver's skillful hand
As thread of Gold and Silver, beneath the pattern He has planned.

Not until the loom is silent and the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unveil the canvas and explain the reason why.

PS: Read 'Grace under Fire'  (2007) as edited by Andrew Carroll.