From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him.
"You do not want to leave too, do you?" Jesus asked the Twelve.
Simon Peter answered him, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life."— John 6:66-68
Even as I, least of spiderkind
Innocently stretched my web across the path,
Just as spiders do,
My labor quiet and steady, and everything in its place,
He walked through.
Quite sudden all was uproar:
My life torn from its foundations of leaf and twig,
The safety of the forest floor.
Now, 'twas wrapped around this moving figure,
Bound I know not where!
Now I, eyes shut tight,
Holding on by a mere strand of faith...
This spider's web,
This thin, pathetic strand,
Adhere for all your worth,
Lest you fall,
And find yourself trampled underfoot.
What spider ever found himself here?
What creature ever
Of such mean estate,
Saw such glory?
But for this one,
Who one day walked upon my web.
And this thread,
This pathetic strand
Was somehow supplemented
By the strength of His hand.
That walk He took was not unplanned.
I know, now, that even as I cling,
His love is greater
Than my meager string.