My life is but a weaving — A Poem

This is a poem of unknown authorship, though it’s been attributed to several people. It was made popular by Corrie ten Boom in her book, The Hiding Place.

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.

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