Skip to comments.My life is but a weaving...Looking for help
Posted on 11/16/2006 3:34:10 AM PST by cvn76rr
My younger brother just died unexpectedly. I am trying to find the words to a poem he used to say years ago for his memorial service. It begins "My life is but a weaving, between the Lord and me. If anyone can help me find the rest of this poem I'd been eternally grateful. Thank you.
Is this it?
Life is But a Weaving
My life is but a weaving
Between my God and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He weaveth steadily.
Oft times He weaveth sorrow;
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I the underside.
Not til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas
And reveal the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful
In the weavers skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned
He knows, He loves, He cares;
Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives the very best to those
Who leave the choice to Him.
Is this it?
My condolences to you and your family.
I see the poem was quickly found. My sincerest condolences on the death of your brother.
I'm so sorry, cvn. Prayers on the way for you and your family.
Very beautiful poem. So sorry for your loss.
The Plan of the Master Weaver
My life is but a weaving between the Lord 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 under side
Sometimes He weaveth sorrow, which seemeth strange to me,
But I will trust His judgement, and work on faithfully,
Tis He who fills the shuttle, and He knows what is best,
So I shall weave in earnest, leaving to Him the rest
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 needed in the Weavers skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.
I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.
My help cometh from the LORD,
which made heaven and earth.
He will not suffer thy foot to be moved:
He that keepeth thee will not slumber.
Behold, He that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.
The LORD is thy keeper:
The LORD is thy shade upon thy right hand.
The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night.
The LORD shall preserve thee from all evil:
He shall preserve thy soul.
The LORD shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth,
And even forevermore.
May God bless you in this time of grief.
Thank you for bringing this poem to light for those of us who have never seen it before. It is beautiful....
I am so sorry!
God's comfort and peace to you and your family.
Truly, trusting God is our only hope in so many of life's situations these days.
Corrie ten Boom used an illustration about a tapestry weaving . . . she had a tapestry sample that she insisted always be presented wrong side up. On the back, the weaving was all a jangled, discordant, ugly mess. But the result on the right side was beauty. Sometimes, we see too much or only the back side in our time/space dimension. God the weaver arranges each thread to His standards . . . often seemingly insensitive to how jangled or even pained we are by a given thread placement. But the result is our being conformed more to the image of His Son--that we might bear a greater weight of glory in eternity--ruling and reigning with Him.
One of the pastors I most respected from my first 18 years of life had a son after 3 daughters. The son for some months had spoken of just being in Love with Jesus and how Heaven must be and how he longed to be with Jesus in Heaven--all this in his teen years--about age 16, I think. Might have been 18 but I think it was 16 years old, in Kansas. One afternoon or evening, loving to be out riding his motor bike, somehow, he came up over one of the hills and smack straight into a big truck, dying instantly.
John David was such a precious child. And for a pastor--certainly John David was the apple of his father's eye. It was a huge loss. But everyone in the family recognized that John David was now home where he had longed to be. They could only say . . . blessed be the name of The Lord. They really had an utterly emphatic confidence that John David was the winner. And that they would not want to take that away from him regardless of the pain of their loss.
I think all of us will learn inreasingly the weight of such priorities in coming months and years--as never before.
In any case, May God be thickly and tangibly with each of you--wrapping you in His strong arms of comfort, provision, peace, wholeness, vision.
So sorry for your loss. I'll be praying for you.
I am sorry for your loss. I pray that God will comfort you and your family. You've already heard the promises of God; I'm praying the Holy Spirit will bring those promises back to your mind and you will find comfort.
So deeply sorry.
I am so sorry for your loss. May you find peace in the Secret place of the Most High.
Sorry for your loss.
You and your family will be in my prayers. I'm very sorry.
May that beautiful poem offer you some comfort in such a sad time.
May you and yours find the peace promised by Our Lord. I am very sorry for your loss.
I love the illustration of a tapestry. Thank you for sharing that.
My condolences on the loss of your brother.
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