A poem by Myra Welch. Thanks to Melchor Chan for sharing this and tagging me in Facebook.
It’s a great reminder that God can change us in ways we can never imagine. God doesn’t make junk but that’s what the world so often tells us that we look at ourselves too lowly. We have to remember that we are made in His image and likeness and that we are special.
—–
‘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.
The touch of the Master changes everything
“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 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 its 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 its worth.” Swift came the reply:
“The touch of a 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, he is “going” twice,
He is “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.
© Myra ‘Brooks’ Welch