“My life is but a weaving, between my God and me.
I cannot choose the colors. He weaveth steadily.
Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow; and I in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper, and I the underside.
Not ’til the loom is silent, and the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas, and reveal the reason why.
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
He knows, He loves, He cares; Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives the very best to those, who leave the choice to Him.”
― Corrie ten Boom
“Life is but a Weaving” (the Tapestry Poem)
