Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin
But he held it up with a smile.
"What am I bid, good folks" he cried -
"Who'll start the bidding for me?"
"Three dollars once, and three dollars twice,
Going, going for three".
But now from the room, from the very last row
Came a grey-haired man and he picked up the bow.
Then wiping the dust from the old violin and
Tightening up all the strings,
He played a melody, a melody as pure and sweet
As the caroling angels sing.
The music closed 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 dollars and who'll make it three?
Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
Going and going for three".
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We don't quite understand,
"What changed its' worth?"
Swift 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 the 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, he is going twice,
He is going, he is almost gone.
But the Master comes and the foolish crowd
Never do quite understand,
The worth of a soul and the change that's wrought by
The touch of the Master's hand.
- Myra 'Brooks' Welch
