The Touch of the Master's Hand Myra Brooks Welch


It was battered and scarred, and the auctioneer thought it Hardly worth his while. To waste his time on the old violin, But he held it up with a smile. What am I bid, good people, he cried. " who starts the bidding for me? One dollar , one dollar, do I hear two? Two dollars, who makes 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 the strings, He played a melody, pure and sweet, as sweet as the angel sings,  The music ceased and the auctioneer with a voice that was quite low, said " What now am I bid for this old violin? as he held it aloft 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 them cried, we just don't understand. What changed its worth? The touch of the master's Hand? And many a man with life out of tune, all battered with bourbon and gin, Is auctioned cheap to a 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 and almost gone. But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd never can quite understand, The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought by the Touch of the Master's Hand.   We too, was like the old violin looking rugged and worthless, dirty and dingy. No one in their right mind would even bid on no less purchased a worthless life. But thanks be to God, who sent his Son Jesus Christ to purchase us. who the price with his life so that we can be touched by the Hand of the Master.