A treasure keep of my Grandmothers.
The Weaver
My life is but a weaving
Between my Lord and me;
I cannot choose the colours,
He worketh steadily
Oft-times 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 unrol the canvas
And explain 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 with Him.
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It has been a while since I stopped by to salute you my dear friend. Give me an update when you have a minute beloved. I missed you. :)
Bless you dear sister in Christ
But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with
wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.
Isaiah 40:30,31
Have an awesome day too Maggie with God our Father giving you victory after victory in Jesus name:) You make me want to shout, our God is awesome, all good, Love you sister:)
Theresa,
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