The Weaver

My life is but a weaving between my Lord and me.
I may not choose the colors; 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 judgment, and work on faithfully.
'Tis He who fills the shuttle; He knows just what is best.
So I shall weave in earnest and leave with 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 darker threads are as needful in the weaver's skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver for the pattern He has planned.

Author Unknown