By Myra Brooks Welch

Stories for Life Index
Home Page

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-now, 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 up all of the strings,
he played a melody pure and sweet-
as sweet as an 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 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 said, "We do not understand--what changed it's worth?"  The man replied: "THE TOUCH OF THE MASTER'S HAND!"

A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,
a game--and they travel on, they're going
once, and going twice, they're 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!