THE TOUCH OF THE MASTER'S HAND

'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 grey-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 a caroling angel sings.

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 once, three thousand twice,
And going, and gone," said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand,
What changed it's worth." Swift came the reply;
"The touch of the master's hand."

And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Are auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin.
A hot needed meal, a glass of wine;
An event--and he travels on.
He is "going once, and going twice,"
He's "going and almost gone."
But the master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never quite understand
The worth of a soul and change that's wrought
By the touch of the Master's hand.

This is me. This was my life. Covered in the dust of sin, out of tune with the Father, His sweet melody long ago squelched and hindered from flowing from me. But, then He found me where I was, tucked in the case of life, never to be heard again from the place of melody's song. He wiped off the sin, tuned the strings of my heart and drew His love across my strings. The sound was sweet and pure and true and real and it touched those around me. All it took was His touch, the touch of the Master's hand.