The Touch of the Master's hand

Myra Brooks Welch tells the story of a battered, scarred violin held up for bid by an auctioneer who hardly thought it worth his time. And it apparently wasn't, for the final bid was a grudging three dollars. But as he was calling, "Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three," a gray-haired man came forward and picked up the bow, wiped the dust from the old instrument, tightened the strings, and played the most beautiful melody—"as sweet as an angel sings."

When the music ceased, the auctioneer, holding it up with the bow, said in a different tone, "What am I bid for the old violin?" Instead of three dollars, it went for three thousand!

The people cheered, but some of them cried,

"We do not quite understand—

What changed its worth?" The man replied,

"THE TOUCH OF THE MASTER'S HAND."

And many a man with a life out of tune,

And battered and torn 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.

Such change is incomprehensible for those outside. But all who have experienced that touch perfectly understand.