Myra Books Welch (1877 - 1959) | American
published in the Gospel Messenger
| Feb 26, 1921
'Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought is 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 will start 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 gray-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 sweet as a caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said, "What am I bidden for the old violin"?
"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 its worth?" Swift came the reply:
"The touch of the Master's hand".
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scattered with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin.
A "mess of pottage". A glass of wine;
A game – and he travels on.
He's "going once", and "going twice",
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.
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13 Mar 2020 11:19 PM