“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 gray haired man came forward and picked up the bow; Then wiping the dust from the old violin and tightening up all 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 bid 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 and three thousand twice - - 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 master’s 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.