Our lives unravel like a rolling skein
A skein we reckon with a backward glance
But could it be that we should look again
And take a different stance?
The wool unwinds and rolls before our eyes
These eyes that now can see another way
A forward way where looking backward dies
But sees the hope of day.
The wool is stained blood-red for we now know
We are complete and cleansed entirely
By virtue of that healing crimson flow
That sets the captives free.
This blood-stained wool is symbol of our lives
Redeemed by Christ, the Master of our story
Where life anew our destiny revives
A foretaste of His glory.
The skein of wool now stretches far ahead
And shows how small our histories really are
The skein is white, our real life instead
Towards the coming Star.
Our lives are short but red because of Him
The forward path is shining white and long
Eternal ages like a diadem
And an eternal song.