THE TOUCH OF THE MASTER'S
HAND
Twas battered and scarred
and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely
worth his while
To waste much time
on the old violin,
But he held it up
with a smile.
~~~~~~
"What am bidden,
good folks?" he cried,
"Who'll start the
bidding for me?"
"A dollar! A dollar!"
then "Two! Only two?"
"Two dollars, and
who'll make it three?"
"Three dollars once,
three dollars twice..
~~~~~~
And going for three
. . . " but no.
From the room, far
back, a gray-haired
man came forward and
picked up the bow.
Then, wiping the dust
from the the old violin,
And tightening the
loosened strings,
~~~~~~
He played a melody
pure and sweet,
As a carolling
angel sings.
The music ceased,
and the auctioneer
With a voice that
was quiet and low
Said, "What am I
bid for the old violin?"
~~~~~~
And he held it up
with the bow.
"A thousand dollars!
And who'll make it two?
"Two thousand!
Who'll make it three?
"Three going once?"
"Three going twice?"
"And going and gone!"
said he.
~~~~~~
The people cheered but
some of them cried,
"We do not understand!
What changed its worth?"
Swift came the reply,
"The touch of
the Master's Hand."
~~~~~~
And many a man with
life out of tune
And battered and
scarred with sin
Is auctioned cheap to
the thoughtless crowd
Much like the old violin.
~~~~~~
A "mess 'o porridge"
A glass of wine
A game and he travels on.
He's "going" once
And "going" twice
And "going"
and almost "gone"
~~~~~~
Then along comes
the Master, and
the foolish crowd
Never can quite
understand. The
worth of a soul
or the change
that's wrought
By the touch of
the MASTER'S Hand.
By Myra Ross Welch...(1926)
