—Myra Brooks Welch (Modified by Pastor Paul R. Hansen)
‘Twas battered and worn and the auctioneer thought it scarcely worth his while
To spend much time on the old violin, but he held it up with a smile.
“What am I bid, good folks,” he cried, “Who will start the bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar”—then, “Who’ll make it two? Two dollars, and who’ll make it three?
Three dollars once; three dollars twice; Going and gone,” but no,
From far in the back a gray-haired man came forward and picked up the bow;
Then, wiping the dust from the old violin, and tightening the loosened 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, “Now 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!” Cried he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried, “We do not quite understand.
What changed its worth?” Swift the reply: “The touch of a master’s hand.”
And many a soul with life out of tune, all battered and worn with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd, much like the old violin.
He’s “going” once, and she’s “going” twice, they’re “going” and “almost gone.”
But The Master comes, and the foolish crowd can never quite understand
The worth of a soul, and the change that is wrought by the touch of The Master’s hand.