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The Plan Of The Master Weaver


I received this poem on a Sympathy Card when my Dad died. It's been a great source of comfort to me, and every time I see this card, I buy every one I see, so I can pass on the comforting message.


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's it's He who fills 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.