The Master Weaver – a Poem and Praise
This poem has been around for years and years, yet it fits so beautifully with me, my blog, and my life being woven by God, the Master Weaver. I have been a weaver and spinner of wools for years, and know the time it takes to create a weaving, a simple wall weaving or a pillow. Imagine the intricacies of this body we live in, the skin, the eyes, one’s creative side, or our emotional makeup, and so much more … : )
I pray that I remain patient and hopeful as the LORD, my God, weaves the woof over and under the warps. One day He will, yes He will, be finished with me. I shall meet Him face-to-face.
Our lives are but fine weavings,
that God and we prepare,
each life becomes a fabric planned,
and fashioned in his care . . .
We may not always see,
just how the weavings intertwine,
but we must trust the Master’s hand,
and follow His design.
For He can view the pattern,
upon the upper side,
while we must look from underneath,
and trust in Him to guide.
Sometimes a strand of sorrow,
is added to His plan,
and though it’s difficult for us,
we still must understand.
That it’s He who flies the shuttle,
it’s He who knows what’s best,
so we must weave in patience,
and leave 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 Weaver’s skillful hand,
as the threads of gold and silver,
in the pattern He has planned.
Psalm 139:13-17
For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
LORD, thank You for weaving me into the girl that I was, the young woman I have been, the woman that I am today, and the one I shall be in the remainder of my days here on earth. As You complete this woven woman, LORD, make me complete in You. One day I shall meet You face-to-face and be Your woven masterpiece. I am grateful. I love You, LORD. Amen.
This is very encouraging.
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Thank you so much for this poem, and for presenting it in such a beautiful way! I recently sent it to a family in the form of a condolence card for their mother’s funeral. Im not a person to give just any card with frivolous quotes. But this poem says all I want to say in such a tender and sympathetic way. And the words are filled with meaning. THANKS again.
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Thank you for this page. I was searching the net for a tapestry wall hanging of this poem that my late sister had in her house with no luck. Do you know where I might find one? Would like one for myself as well as several friends. Thanks for any suggestions.
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Hazel, I do not know of such a tapestry wall hanging with this beautiful poem. I no longer weave or do needle type arts or I might have thought about creating one. The arthritis in my hands and the cervical surgery have halted this wonderful creativity I loved for so long. You might contact someone who does needlepoint or counted-cross stitch (or whichever form of art you would like this poem in) and ask them about doing such. I would think that either of two forms I just mentioned would be the best way to integrate this rather lengthy poem. I wish you the best in your search.
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There is another part to this poem. It starts with “He knows! He Loves! He Cares!”, but I can’t remember the rest. I read this poem and saved a copy about 45 years ago when it was called “The Shuttle Weaver”. I can’t seem to find my copy. Does anyone out there remember the rest of this poem? I’ll keep searching for mine.
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Dannie, @ http://thetapestrychurch.blogspot.com/2011/06/life-is-but-weaving-tapestry-poem.html
Life is But a Weaving
Corrie Ten Boom (The Tapestry Poem)
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 weaver’s 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.
(Corrie Ten Boom often used this poem as she described a Tapestry that hangs currently at the museum. I recommend reading “The Hiding Place).
and @ http://www.bibleteachingnotes.com/templates/System/details.asp?fetch=9602
The Weaver
My life is but a weaving
Between my Lord and me.
I cannot 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
Shall God unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why.
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.
Author Unknown
Note: | One version of this poem adds these concluding lines:
He knows, He loves, He cares.
Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives His very best to those
who leave the choice with Him.
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