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By Myra Brooks Welch
Twas battered and scarred, 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 bidden for this?' he cried, 'Who'll start the bidding for me? A dollar - one dollar: then two - only two; Two dollars are bidden; say three
'Three dollars once: three dollars twice: Going for three!' But lo! From the back of the crowd a grey -haired man Came forward and picked up the bow.
Then, wiping the dust from the old violin And tight'ning the loosened strings, He played a melody passing sweet, The kind that haunts and clings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer, With a voice that was soft and low, Said, 'Now what is bid for the old violin?' And he held it up with the bow.
'A thousand dollars: who'll make it two? Two - two thousand: say three. Three thousand once, three thousand twice, Three thousand - gone!' said he.
The people cheered, but some exclaimed, 'We do not quite understand What changed its worth:' and the answer came, 'Twas the touch of the Master's hand.
And many a man with soul out of tune, And battered and scared by sin, Is auctioned cheap by the thoughtless crowd, Just like the old violin.
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd Never can quite understand The worth of a soul, and the change that is wrought By the touch of the Master's hand.
O Master! I am the tuneless one: Lay, lay Thine hand on me, Transform me now, put a song in my heart Of melody, Lord to Thee (Rom 6:16; 12:1,2: 2Cor 3:18)-
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