Twas battered and scarred and the auctioneer thought it scarcely worth his while. To waste much time on the old violin, But he held it up with a smile. What am I biddin, good folks? he cried Who'll star teh bidding for me? A dollar - a dollar - now 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 tightened up all the strings, He played a melody pure ans sweet - As sweet as an 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 held it up with the bow. |
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A Thousand dollars - and who'll make it two? Two thousand dollars - and who'll make it three. Three thousand once, three thousand twicw - And going, and gone, said he. The people cheered, but some of them said, We do not understand- What changed its worth? The Man replied "THE TOUCH OF THE MASTER'S HAND" And many a person with life out of tune And battered and torn with sin, Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd - Much like the old violin. A mess of pottage, a glass of wine, a game - and they travel on, They're going once, and going twice, they're going - and almost gone. But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd Never 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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