THE WEAVER. My life is but a weaving Between my LORD and me, I cannot choose the colours, He weaved so steadily Oft He weaved sorrow, Oft time He weaved great peace and joy, And I in foolish pride, forget He sees the upper, And I the underside. Not till the loom is silent, And the shuttle ceases to ply, Shall GOD unroll the canvas, And explain the reason why. The dark threads are so needfull, In the Weavers hand, As the threads of gold and silver, In the pattern He has planned. My seun, pappa glo dat jy nou vol blydskap en vrede is. Lief jou altyd , en mis jou oneindig .
Posted on: Tue, 20 Aug 2013 08:17:58 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015