The Touch of he Master's Hand.
T'was battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste so much time on the old violin
But he held it up with a smile."
"What am I biddin', good folks?" he cried.
"Who'll start the biddin' 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 back of the room, far back, a gray haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tighteing the loose strings
He played a melody oure abd 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 will make it two?"
"Two thousand! And who will make it three?"
"Three thousand once, three thousand twice;"
"And going going, gone" said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite ununderstand"
"What changed its worth?" Swift came the reply
"The touch of a Master's hand"
And many a man with a life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like a cheap violin.
A "mess of potage", a glass of wine;
A game ... and he travels on.
He is "going" once, and "going" twice
He is "going" and almost "gone.
Buth the master comes in and the foolish crowd
Never can understand
The worth of a soul, and the change that is wrought.
By the touch of the Master's hand.
May God bless you and keep you, until next time.
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