The Touch Of A Masters Hand

Was battered and scared and the auctioneer thought it scarcely worth his while,
to waste much time on the scared 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 only three?!” Said he.

BUT NO.

From the room, far back, a gray haired man came forward and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the dust from the scared violin, he tightened its loose tattered strings…
Then played a melody pure and sweet,

Just like caroling Angels would sing.

Then the music ceased, and auctioneer, with a voice that was quiet and low, said;
“What is this bid for the scared 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 once, three thousand twice, and going, going, and gone,” said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried, “We don’t quite understand!

WHAT CHANGED IT’S WORTH?
Swift came the reply!
“THE TOUCH OF A MASTERS HAND.”

There’s many a man and woman living with life strings out of tune, feeling doomed and battered and scared, with sin, their auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd, as like a scared violin.

A pot of greens, a glass of wine -through all the games- he travels on. He’s going once, he’s going twice, he’s going and almost gone. But the master comes and the thoughtless crowd never can quite understand. The worth of a soul and the changes brought; by the touch of, “The Masters Hand.”

If you say, “I believe in God.” But think, ‘there’s nothing above a man.’ Then how can the fingers say to the thumb, “We don’t need you or this hand!?”