The Weaving

My life is but a weaving between my Lord and me,

I may not see the pattern, but He knows what it should be;

Most times I do not understand and in my foolish pride,

Forget God sees the upper, while I the underside.

Sometimes He weaveth sorrows which seemeth strange to me,

But I'll just trust His judgment and work on faithfully;

'Tis He who fills the shuttle, He knows just what is best,

So I'll just weave in earnest and leave Him with the rest.

At last when life is ended and I with Him abide,

Then I shall see the pattern upon the upper side;

And I shall know the reason why joy with pain entwined,

Was woven in the fabric of life that God designed.

The dark threads are as needful in the Creator's skillful hand,
As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.

But not 'til the loom is silent and the shuttles cease to fly,

Shall God unroll the fabric and show the reason why;

--Author unknown