Stretched across the Maker's loomwove by his hand, pared by his knife
A work of wonder since the womb
This is the tapestry of my life.
The design, so flawless and pure
While his hand controlled the weave
But time passed by and I was sure
I could, so I took his leave.
When I sought to weave my way
And control my own design
My tapestry began to fray
And I wanted to resign.
And so I asked him back once more
To weave my life again
And he came thro' my heart's open'd door
Removed the scars, forgave my sin.
Now closely looking at the loom
And the tapestry that's there
You can see the marks of the empty tomb
For he met me there.
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