The Touch of the Master's Hand

"Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought is scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But he held it up with a smile:
"What amd I bidden, good folks," he cried.
"Who'll 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 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
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 "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.