This poem was cited in a book I read; it is thought-provoking as well as accurate.
The Weaver
by Grant Colfax Tullar (1869-1950)
My life is but a weaving
Between my God and me.
I cannot choose the colours
He weaveth steadily.
Oft’ times 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,
Will God unroll the canvas
And reveal 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.
He knows, He loves, He cares;
Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives the very best to those
Who leave the choice to Him.
2 comments:
Thanks for posting this beautiful poem, Glenn. As a woman who loves textiles, yarn, and threads, it really speaks to me. I learn so much from your postings. Thank you for helping us separate the lies and untruths from the truth.
Hi Mary,
Thanks for visiting.
My wife is an excellent seamstress and she also liked the poem; she first heard part of it while watching a special about Corrie Ten Boom, but I didn't know that until I read the poem to her from the book I was reading.
I'm thankful that my blog helps you to learn things. :)
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