'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 bid, good folks?" he cried ;
"Who will start 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 gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow ;
Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening up all its 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 … 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 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.