Here's a poem I really like:
"My Life is But a Weaving"
My life is but a weaving
Between the Lord and me
I do not choose the colors
He worketh steadily.
Oftimes he weaveth sorrow
And I in foolish pride
Forget he sees the upper
And I the underside.
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.
Not till the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why.
- Author Unknown
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