To trust the end from the beginning,
the shining, ordered end,
is not to know what shades or shapes
the threads of tapestry will wind to, only
that a masterpiece is in the making.
To forge the colors of my thought
to purest tones—to peaceflame blue,
ascension yellow—is all my part,
since hands more capable are molding,
stitch by Spirit, the pattern of my life.
God's artistry is matchless, and I keep
the colors coming—stainless ivory,
jubilation green—thrilled as the light
begins to sparkle in its depths, trusting,
trusting, trusting the perfect end.
