Our lives are but fine weaving
That "God" and we prepare,
Each life becomes a fabric planned
And fashioned in "His" care.

We may not always see just how
The weaving intertwines,
But we must trust the Masters hand
And follow "His" design.

For He can view the pattern
Upon the upper side,
While we must look from underneath
And trust in "Him" to guide.

Sometimes a strand of sorrow
Is added to "His" plan,
And though it's difficult for us,
We still must understand.

That it's "He" who fills the shuttle
It's "He" who knows what's best,
So we must weave in patience
And leave to "Him" the rest.

Not till the loom in silent
And the shuttles cease to fly,
Shall "God" unroll the canvas
And explain the reason 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.