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 upperside,

While I can see it only on this, the underside...

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 shall I 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 reasons 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.

- Anonymous