Friday, February 27, 2009



My life is but a weaving
Between the Lord and me;
I cannot choose the colors
He works steadily.

Ofttimes He weaveth sorrow
And I in foolish pride,
Forget that He seeth the upper
And I the under side.

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 needful
In the weaver’s skillful hand,
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.

I read this in a book and was inspired. Makes me want to quilt. Or even include this on a quilt. Hmm...So many ideas in my head, if only they could come out on quilts that fast.
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