THE DIVINE WEAVER

MAN'S life is laid in a loom of time

To a pattern he does not see.

While the Weaver works and the shuttles fly

Till the end of eternity.

Some shuttles are filled with silver thread,

And some with threads of gold;

While often but the darker hue

Is all that they may hold.

But the weaver watches with skilful eye

Each shuttle fly too and fro

And sees the pattern so deftly wrought

As the loom works sure and slow.

God surely planned that pattern

Each thread, the dark and the fair -

Was chosen by his master skill

And placed in the web with care.

He only knows the beauty

And guides the shuttles which hold

The threads so unattractive

As well as the threads of gold.

Not till the loom is silent.

And the shuttles cease to fly

Shall God unroll the pattern

And explain the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful

In the weaver's skilful hand,

As the threads of gold and silver

In the pattern he had planned.

(I am unable to say who wrote this as I have it on a card which doesn't state the author. I have found it helpful in times of sadness).