My life is but a weaving between the Lord and me;
I may not choose the colours,
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 judgement, 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 skilful hand
as the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.
Benjamin Malachi Franklin (1882 – 1965)
