From Touch of the Master's Hand, excerpt:
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| © voice-wilderness.org |
"Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But he help it up high with a smile.
"What am I bidden, good folk?", he cried.
"Who'l start the bidding for me?
A dollar - a dollar - then two, only two,
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?"
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 loosened strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet
As caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said, "NOW what am I bid for the old violin?"
And he help 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," cried he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not understand.
What changed its worth?" - Quick 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 a 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 quite understand
The worth of a soul, and change that's wrought.
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But he help it up high with a smile.
"What am I bidden, good folk?", he cried.
"Who'l start the bidding for me?
A dollar - a dollar - then two, only two,
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?"
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 loosened strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet
As caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said, "NOW what am I bid for the old violin?"
And he help 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," cried he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not understand.
What changed its worth?" - Quick 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 a 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 quite understand
The worth of a soul, and change that's wrought.
