'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 bidden, good folks," he cried
"Who will 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 sweet as a caroling 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?"
"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 the master's hand."

And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scattered 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's "going" onec, 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 changes that's wrought
By The Touch of the Master's Hand.