BEAUTIFUL THREADS OF GOLD
Weaving them into a workaday life
Beautiful threads of gold,
A thread of joy and a thread of strife
And yet the hands that hold
May fashion them out into patterns fair,
Designs of beauty new and rare,
Till the Master weaver finds them there
In beautiful threads of gold.
Weaving them in with a patient hand
Beautiful threads of gold,
Weaving them in as the artist planned
When He laid life's somber fold,
Weaving them in with a smile and song
Wonderful threads so firm and strong
Under the good and over the wrong
Weave beautiful threads of gold.
Weaving them in with a watchful eye,
Beautiful threads of gold,
To fall across where the shadows lie
When the web is all unrolled,
Weaving them in till the Master's call,
Bids the bright threads break and the shuttle falls.
And angels come down to gather them all
Life's broken threads of gold.
Anonymous
This is a poem recited to me by my grandmother, Minnie Conklin. I've never seen it in hardcopy form.
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