Master's Touch

Touch of the Master's Hand
By Myra Brooks Welch, 1921

'Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it 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'll start the 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 grey-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: "What am I bid for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow.

To hear a beautiful musical rendition: http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&v=s8Ud34hc_l0&NR=1

"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 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 is "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 is wrought
By the touch of the Master's hand.

Note: This has been my favorite poem for nearly 50 years, so I can't resist posting it here. I haven't yet found the Bible gems to tag it with. If you have some, email them to me. Contact

Human Interest Note: The violin pictured above belonged to my mother-in law. The one pictured to the right belonged to my father-in-law, who won 1st place in a music contest in 1939. The two violins reside under our bed, and will someday belong to our musically aspiring grandchildren.