My Life is but a weaving
Between my God and me
I cannot choose the
colors He weaveth
steadily.

Oft' times He weaveth
sorrow; And I in foolish
pride forget He sees the
upper And I the underside.

Not 'til the loom is
silent And the shuttles
cease to fly Will God
unroll the canvas And
reveal the reason why.

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.

He knows, He loves, He
cares; Nothing this truth
can dim.
He gives the very best to those
Who leaves the choice to Him.

PSALMS 5

1 Give ear to my words, O Lord, consider my meditation.

2 Hearken unto the voice of my cry, my King, and my God: for unto thee will I pray.

3 My voice shalt thou hear in the morning, O Lord; in the morning will I direct my prayer unto thee, and will look up.

4 For thou art not a God that hath pleasure in wickedness: neither shall evil dwell with thee.

5 The foolish shall not stand in thy sight: thou hatest all workers of iniquity.

6 Thou shalt destroy them that speak leasing: the Lord will abhor the bloody and deceitful man.

7 But as for me, I will come into thy house in the multitude of thy mercy: and in thy fear will I worship toward thy holy temple.

8 Lead me, O Lord, in thy righteousness because of mine enemies; make thy way straight before my face.

9 For there is no faithfulness in their mouth; their inward part is very wickedness; their throat is an open sepulchre; they flatter with their tongue.

10 Destroy thou them, O God; let them fall by their own counsels; cast them out in the multitude of their transgressions; for they have rebelled against thee.

11 But let all those that put their trust in thee rejoice: let them ever shout for joy, because thou defendest them: let them also that love thy name be joyful in thee.

12 For thou, Lord, wilt bless the righteous; with favour wilt thou compass him as with a shield.