The tapestry that my Lord weaves
Is beautiful and bold
Laced with loving stitches
From the youngest to the old

Threads entwine humanity
With golden webs of light
Encasing souls eternally
From dark, Satanic night

His work is never finished
And the weaving never slows
The piece thus done, is history
Ahead, only He knows

The colors of creation
Are His to use at will
My master minds the shuttle
And the loom is never still

Somewhere, amid the patterns
Designated by His own grace
Etched tenderly 'neath angels wings
My name is stitched in place