The Touch of the Master's Hand
Poem★★★★‘Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer Thought it scarcely worth his while To waste much time on the old violin, But he 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? “Going for three” –but no— From the room far back, a gray-haired man Came forward and picked up the bow.
Then wiping the dust from the old violin, 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, “Now what am I bid for the old violin?” And 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,” cried he. The people cheered, but some of them cried, “We do not understand.
“What changed its worth?”—Quick came the reply, “The touch of the master’s hand.” And many a man with a life out of tune, And battered and scarred with sin, Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd, Much like the violin. A “mess of pottage”—a glass of wine, A game—and he travels on: 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.
Myra Brooks Welch, Adventist Review, May 2004.
The point
A worn violin worth nothing becomes priceless when the Master musician plays it; similarly, broken lives transformed by Christ's touch become invaluable.