Post by beautifulchildslove on Aug 20, 2004 16:21:21 GMT -8
The Weaver
My life is but a weaving
Between the Weaver and me,
I cannot choose the colors
That He worketh steadily
Not till the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Shall the canvas be unrolled
And explain the reason why.
I found this in the newspaper as well
My life is but a weaving
Between the Weaver and me,
I cannot choose the colors
That He worketh steadily
Not till the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Shall the canvas be unrolled
And explain the reason why.
I found this in the newspaper as well
