THE LOOM.

White Ribbon, Volume 28, Issue 331, 18 January 1923, Page 10

THE LOOM.

Ply, .shuttle, fly, for the end draws nigh, And the web comes under the Master’s eye. Through warp und woof For body’s behoof; Knit faith with deed For the soul's need; Track gain through loss, And joy through pain: While the threads cross, Man grows amain. Fly, shuttle, fly, for the tnd draws nigh, And the web comes under the Master's eye. Like and unlike Athwart must strike, Before the mind Its world can And. 'Tis the bent ray That gives us sight; The glowing day Dawns red from night. Fly, shuttle, fly, for the end draws nigh, And the web comes under the Master'seye. So sun and star, That flash afar, Weave Clod’s design In web divine. Kach human will. \V ith fleck and flaw, Is weaving still Beneath His law. Fly, shuttle, fly. for the end draws nigh, And the web comes under *he Master's eye. Hearts mated beat. As matched threads meet; The shuttle’s dart Tears them apart. Life’s changeful dream Takes the shot clue; With each fresh beam The Heavens are new. Fly, shuttle, fly. for the end draws nigh, And the web comes under the Master’s eye. Love In one whole Weaves soul with soul. Even God with man,

So vuat the plan. Uplifted high, The symbol stands, 'Twixt earth and sky, Of their crossed hands. Ply, shuttle, fly. for the end draw nigh, And the web comes under the Master' eye. And as we weave, And joy or grieve, That symbol sheds On the swift theads A crimson hue To mortal sight, That in God’s view Will be wool’s white. Ply, shuttle, fly, for the end draw nigh, And the web comes under the Master’! eye. Hushes the boom Of the thunder-loom, Falters the wheel Gf the whirling reel: To the shuttle’s flying The eyes grow dim; The worn worker, dying, . Leaves the web to Him. Stand, shuttle, stand, at the Master’. 1 command. T he web is finished and in HLs hand! —John Mills