Poem

Here's another poem that I didn't write, but like it enough to share.

My life is but a weaving
Between my God and me.
I do not choose the colors,
But God works steadily.

Often God weaves sorrow,
And I, in foolish pride,
Forget that God sees the top
While I the otherside.

Not until the loom is silent,
And the shuttles cesase to fly,
Will God unroll the canvas
An explain the reasons why.

But the dark threads are as needful
In the skillful weaver's hand,
As the threads of God and silver
In the pattern God has planned.

I just really like this poem. A lot of times there are things that we can't understand when we are in the midst of them, but it's encouraging to know that we have someone at the loom that cares enough to do His best at creating a work of art.