Wee spider, dangling on an unseen rope
    With artless grace,
You dare to drop, trusting the single thread,
    Into extended space,
And swing from gutter on a gentle breeze,
    Above my window sill,
Carried you know not where, by mindless fate
    Or God’s mysterious will.

You speak, in silence, as I watch and wait,
    Of what God asks of me:
To trust my life upon the thread of faith
    No one can see,
And let Him swing me into life’s demands
    With tender, loving skill,
Sending me into places strange and new,
    To face what’s good or ill.

But this I know, His love embraces all,
And from His care, not you nor I can fall.