The Touch of the Masters Hand
By: Myra Brooks Welch
'Twas battered and scared,
and the auctioneer thought
it
scarcely worth his while
to waist much time on the old violin,
but held it up with a smile:
"What am I 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; 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 old violin,
and tightening the loose strings,
he played a
melody pure and sweet
as a caroling 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! And who'll make it three?
Three thousand, once, three thousand, twice, And going
and gone,"
he said. The people cheered, but some of them
cried,
"We do not quit understand what changed its worth."
Swift came the reply: "The touch of a masters hand"
And many a man with life out of tune,
and battered and
scared with sin,
is auctioned off cheap to the
thoughtless
crowd, much like the old violin.
A "mess of pottage," a glass
of wine;
a game~ and he travels on. He is "going" once,
and
"going" twice, he's "going" and almost "gone."
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd never can
quit understand the worth of a soul and the change that's
wrought by the touch of the Masters Hand.
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