Man’s life is laid in the loom of time br To a pattern he does not see br While the weavers and the shuttles fly br Till the dawn of eternity br br Some shuttles are filled with silver threads br And some with threads of gold br While often but the darker threads br Are all that they may hold. br br But the weaver watches with br Skilful eye br Each shuttle fly to and fro br And sees the pattern so deftly wrought br As the loom moves sure and slow br br God surely planned the pattern br Each thread, the dark and fair br Is chosen by his masters skill br And placed in the web with care. br br God only knows it’s beauty br And guides the shuttles which hold br The threads so unattractive br As well as the threads of gold br br Not till each loom is silent br And the shuttle cease to fly br Shall God reveal the pattern br And explain the reason why br The dark threads were as needful br In the weavers skilful hand br As the threads of gold and silver br For the pattern which he planned. br br Anon.