The Master's Hand
It was battered and scarred and the auctioneer thought it scarecely worth his while to waste his time on the old violin, but he held it up with a smile. "What do you bid good people" he cried, "Who starts this bidding for me. One dollar, one dollar, do I hear two, two dollars, who makes it three?"
"Three dollars once, three dollars twice, Going, Going for three."
"But No!" from the room, far back, a grey bearded man came forward and picked up the bow and wiping the dust from the old violin and tightening up the strings, he played a melody, pure and sweet, sweet as the angel sings.
The music ceased.
The Auctioneer, whose voice was quiet and low, said "What now am I bid for this old violine," as he held it up with its bow. "One thousand, one thousand. Do I hear Two? Two thousand, who makes it Three?"
"Three thousand once, three thousand twice, Going and Gone!" said he. The audience cheered but some couldn't quite understand what changed its worth. Till suddenly came forth the reply,"The touch of the Master's Hand."
And many a man, his life out of tune, all battered with Bourbon and Gin. His auction cheap to a thoughtless crowd, much like that old violin.
A mess of pottage, a glass of wine, a game, he travels on.
"Going once, going twice, he's going and almost gone."
But the Master comes and the foolish crowd never could quite understand the worth of the soul; the change that is wrought by the touch of the Master's Hand.
