Cross stitching isn’t quite the same as weaving a tapestry – but looking at yesterday’s Heffalump piece reminded me of an old verse my Grandmother was fond of. There’s the reference to the picture not being clear if you look at the underside – and because the picture needs the black stitches to make everything clear.
My life is but a weaving between my God and me,
I do not 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 shuttles cease to fly,
Will God unroll the canvas and explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful in the skilful Weaver's hand
As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.
I also like the thought that what we experience and see in life is like the back of the canvas / tapestry/ embroidery and it is not until we get to the 'other side' that we can see the finished result!
ReplyDeleteLove that! A lovely metaphor! Happy Sunday, Angela!
ReplyDeleteI know someone who will really appreciate this at the moment, I think I will give it to her in a card - hope you don't mind.
ReplyDeleteGlad that you all liked this post
ReplyDeleteThis is a really old verse, and out of copyright - feel free to use it Elizabeth!