THE TOUCH OF THE MASTER'S HAND

- Myra 'Brooks' Welch

'Twas battered and scarred, and the

auctioneer thought it 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 bidding 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 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 loose strings, he

played a melody pure and sweet as

caroling angels sing. 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

going once, three thousand, twice and

going and gone, said he. the people

cheered, but someof them cried, "we

don't quite understand what changed

its worth." swift came the reply: "the

touch of a 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's 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 the change that's wrought by

the touch of the Master's Hand.