THE FIRST TANGLE | AdventAI

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jul 16, 1894

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 20, No. 36.

THE FIRST TANGLE.

ONCE in an Eastern palace wide A little child sat weaving; So patiently her task she plied The men and women at her side Flocked round her almost grieving.

"How is it, little one," they said, "You always work so cheerily? You never seem to break your thread, Or snarl or tangle it, instead Of working smooth and clearly.

"Our weaving gets so worn and soiled, Our silk so frayed and broken; For all we've fretted, wept, and toiled, We know the lovely pattern's spoiled Before the king has spoken."

The little child looked in their eyes, So full of care and trouble, And pity chased the sweet surprise That filled her own, as sometimes flies The rainbow in a bubble.

"I only go and tell the king," She said, abashed and meekly; "You know he said in everything—" "Why, so do we," they cried; "we bring Him all our troubles weekly."

She turned her little head aside, A moment let them wrangle; "Ah, but," she softly then replied, "I go and get the knot untied At the first little tangle!"

O little children, weavers all, Our broidery we spangle With many a tear that would not fall If on our King we would but call At the first little tangle. —Selected.