My life is but a weaving, between my God and me,
I do not choose the colors, He worketh steadily.
Ofttimes 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 unroll the canvas, and explain the reasons why
The dark threads are as needful in the skillful weaver’s hand
As threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.
He knows, He loves, He cares,
Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives His very best to those
Who leave the choice with Him.
(Anonymous Americas)
More Poetry from Anonymous Americas:
Anonymous Americas Poems based on Topics: Life, Sadness, Gold, Truth, Fool, Reasoning- The Ancient Banner (Anonymous Americas Poems)
- Twa Sisters O' Binnorie (Anonymous Americas Poems)
- Tam Lin (Anonymous Americas Poems)
- Oh! He's Nothing But A Soldier (Anonymous Americas Poems)
- The Vulture (Parody of Poe's "Raven") (Anonymous Americas Poems)
- The Football Match (Anonymous Americas Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Life Poems, Sadness Poems, Gold Poems, Truth Poems, Fool Poems, Reasoning PoemsBased on Keywords: ofttimes, shuttles, worketh, unroll, skillful, weaveth, underside