
between my Lord and me; I cannot choose the colors He worketh steadily. |
And I, in foolish pride, Forget He sees the upper, And I the under side. |
And the shuttles cease to fly, Shall God unroll the canvas And explain the reason why. |
In the Weaver's skillful hand, As the threads of gold and silver In the pattern He has planned. |
Nothing this truth can dim. He gives His very best to those Who leave the choice with Him. |
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