Monday, June 11, 2007


My life is but a weaving betwixt my God and me;

I do not choose the colors, He worketh steadily.

Oft times He weaveth sorrow, and I in foolish pride

Forget He sees the upper, and I the underside.

Not till the loom is silent and the shuttles cease to fly

Will God unfold the pattern and explain the reason why.

For 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.

Written by Grant Colfax Tuller

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