The Master's Touch

‘twas battered and scarred and the auctioneer
thought it was scarcely worth the while
to waste much time on the old violin
but he held it up with a smile.

"What am I bidden, good folk?” he cried,

“Who’ll start the bidding for me?
a dollar – a dollar – then two – only two—
going for three” but NO.

Fom the room far back
a gray haired man
came forward and packed up the bow
then, wiping the dust from the old violin
and tightening the loosened 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,
“NOW 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 cried.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,

“We do not understand.  What changed it’s 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.

But when the Master comes
and the foolish crowd
never can understand
the worth of a soul
and the change that’s wrought
by the touch of the Master’s hand.
(author unknown)