the image of this woven bookmark
was copied, with permission,
from the Cash's web site.
Words:
The
Divine Weaver
My Life is but a weaving
between my Lord and me:
I cannot choose the colours
he worketh steadily.
Oftentimes 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 skilful hand
as the threads of gold and silver
in the pattern He has planned.
{image of an old hand loom}
