Just a Weaver

This is a beautiful poem, the words reminding me again that we don’t know the reasons why things happen in this life.  One day, everything will be known and it will all make sense.  Until that day it should be enough that our Father God has a reason for allowing the pain.


Just a Weaver

by Benjamin Malachi Franklin

My life is but a weaving,
    between my God and me,
I do not choose the colors,
    He worketh steadily.

Ofttimes he weaveth sorrow,
    and I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper,
    and I the underside.

Not till the loom is silent,
    and the shuttles cease to fly,
Will God unroll the canvas,
    and explain the reasons why

The dark threads are as needful
    in the skillful weaver’s hand
As threads of gold and silver
    in the pattern He has planned.


Here is a link to a short article written about the author and a picture of him.  http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewshortstory.asp?AuthorID=47736&id=23610