| Lyrics: | "Twas battered and scared, 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 bidden, good folks,"
he cried,
"Who'll start bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar - now who"ll make it 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 up the strings,
He
played a melody,pure and 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 bidden 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," said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do
not quite understand -
What changed its worth?" The man replied:
"The touch of the masters
hand."
And many a man 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 he travels on,
He's 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's wrought
By the touch of the MASTER'S
hand. |
