The Plan Of The Master Weaver

Our lives are but fine weavings,
That God and we prepare,
Each life becomes a fabric planned
And fashioned in His care.
We may not always see just how
The weavings intertwine,
But we must trust the Master’s hand
And follow His design,
For He can view the pattern
From 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 is 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
And the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.

--Anonymous

The Weaver


My life is but a weaving
Between my Lord and me,
I cannot choose the colors
Nor all the pattern see.

Sometimes He chooses sorrow
And I, in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I the under side.

Not till the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will He reveal the pattern
Or tell the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful
In the weavers skillful hand,
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.



Author Unknown