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 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 ceases 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'
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