Touch by the Master's Hand

From Touch of the Master's Hand, excerpt:

© 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.