0 The Weaver

The Weaver sat down to weave one day
A garment of beauty rare.
Each thread did yield completely
To His touch of loving care.

Back and forth the shuttle did fly,
The pattern began to show.
It was a thing of beauty
As He wove it row upon row.

The threads began to show signs of strain
And rebelled at the Master's touch.
Then knotted and tangled they became,
This pattern was just too much!

Then with strong but gentle hands
The Weaver took the strings.
He pulled them here and there a bit
And they yielded once again.

And so sometimes our lives become
So filled with little things,
The Master Weaver must stop His work
And untangle the knotted strings

And though it seems so hard to yield
To a pattern we can’t see,
Yet the Master Weaver, He does know
What the finished work will be.

--Mary S., 89