The Weaver

“The Weaver,” a poem by Grant Colfax Tullar (1869-1950) often shows up in subtle and not so subtle variations. Here are a couple I have found.

1. Our lives are but fine weavings,
that God and we prepare,
each life becomes a fabric planned,
and fashioned in his care . . .

2. We may not always see,
just how the weavings intertwine,
but we must trust the Master’s hand,
and follow His design.

3. For He can view the pattern,
upon the upper side,
while we must look from underneath,
and trust in Him to guide.

4. Sometimes a strand of sorrow,
is added to His plan,
and though it’s difficult for us,
we still must understand.

5. That it’s He who flies the shuttle,
it’s He who knows what’s best,
so we must weave in patience,
and leave to Him the rest .

6. Not till the loom is silent,
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the pattern,
And explain the reason why:

7. The dark threads are as needful
In the Weaver’s skillful Hand,
As the thread of gold and silver
For the pattern He has planned.


1. My life is but a weaving
Between my Lord and me;
I cannot choose the colors
He worketh steadily.

2. Oft times He weaveth sorrow
And I, in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper,
And I the under side.

3. Not til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly,
Shall God unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why.

4. 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.

5. He knows, He loves, He cares,
Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives His very best to those
Who chose to walk with Him.