Touch of the Master’s Hand

‘Twas battered and scarred and the auctioneer
Thought is scarcely worth his while
To waste 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 biding for me?
A dollar, a dollar – now 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 grey-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening up all the strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet;
As sweet as an 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 and three thousand twice –
And going and gone!” said he
The people cheered but some of them cried,
“We do not quite understand –
What changed it’s worth?” The man replied:
“The touch of the Master’s hand.
 
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and torn with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin…
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that’s wrought
By the Touch of the Master’s Hand.
Myra Brooks Welch

A few of us were helping to go through some old papers stored in a filing cabinet in the church lounge and found a bunch of copies of our church newsletters from the 80’s.  I took them home to look through and found this poem and thought it was worthy of repeating.  I hope you enjoyed it.

Lisa Beretz, LLBeretz@gmail.com