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My Web of Life

No chance has brought this ill to me;
‘Tis God’s sweet will, so let it be,
He seeth what I cannot see.
There is a need for each pain;
And He will one day make it plain
That earthly loss is heavenly gain.
Like as a piece of tapestry
Viewed from the back appears to be
But tangled threads mixed hopelessly,
But in the front a picture fair
Rewards the worker for his care,
Proving his skill and patience rare.
Thou are the workman, I the frame;
Lord, for the glory of Thy name,
Perfect Thine image in the same.

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