"The Weaver" (My favorite poem)


The Weaver
My life is but a weaving
Between the Lord and me.
I cannot choose the colors;
He worketh steadily.

Oftimes He weaveth sorrow,
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the Upper,
And I the underside.

Not ‘til 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.
(Unknown)

2 comments:

  1. This is one of my favorite poems, too. I had it on an index card when my children were small, and I read it so many times, I have it memorized. And it is so true. Thank you for sharing.

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    Replies
    1. Thanks for your comment Michele. This poem helps me to run to God and refocus on His purposes in the midst of my pain, because sometimes, pain makes it very hard to pray.

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