"What am I bid, good folks?" he cried. "Who will start the bidding for me? A dollar, a dollar, now two, only two dollars and who will 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 quite low said, "What am I bid for the old violin?" and he held it up with the bow. "A thousand dollars, and and who will make it two? Two thousand dollars, and who will make it three? Three thousand once, three thousand twice, going 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 off cheap to a thoughtless crowd, much like the old violin.
A mess of pottage, a glass of wine, a game- he travels on. He's going, going, and almost gone.
But the master comes, and the foolish crowd can never quite understand the worth of a soul, and the change that is wrought' by the touch of the masters hand
--Unknown