My life is but a weaving Between my God and me; I cannot choose the colors He worketh steadily. Sometimes He weaveth sorrow And I in foolish pride Forget He sees the upper, And I the under side.
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.
My life is but a weaving Between my God and me; I see the seams, the tangles, But He sees perfectly. He knows, He loves, He cares, Nothing this truth can dim; He gives His very best to those Who chose to walk with Him.
http://www.theworshipbook.com/blog/lyrics-whodunnit (18 September 2016)