The Touch of the Master's Hand

"The Old Violin"

'Twas battered and scarred,
And the auctioneer thought it
scarely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
but he held it up with a smile.

"What am I bid, good folks", he cried,
"Who'll start the bidding for me?"
"One dollar, a dollar, now two, only two?"
"Two dollars, who'll make it three?"
"Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three,"

But, No,
From the room far back a grey haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow,
Then wiping the dust from the old violin
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet
As sweet as an angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said "What am I bid for this old violin?"
As he held it up with its' bow.

"One thousand dollars, And who'll make it two?"
"Two thousand, Who'll make it three?"
"Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
Going and gone", said he.

The audience cheered,
But some of them cried,
"We do not understand."
"What changed its' worth?"
The man replied,
"The Touch of the Masters Hand."

And many a man with life out of tune
All battered and scarred with sin
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd
Much like that old violin.

But the Master comes,
And the foolish crowd never can quite understand,
The worth of a soul and the change that's wrought
By the Touch of the Masters' Hand.

by Myra Brooks Welch (1926)