Life is but a Weaving

My life is but a weaving Between my God and me; I may not choose the colors, He knows what they should be. For He can view the pattern Upon the upper side, While I can see it only On this the underside. Sometimes He weaveth sorrow Which seemeth strange to me; But I will trust His judgment, And work on faithfully. T’is He who fills the shuttle, He knows just what is best; So I shall weave in earnest, And leave with Him the rest. At last when life is ended. With Him I shall...