There is a song called, “The Touch of the Master’s Hand,” by Wayne Watson, which tells the story of a beat up, old violin that didn’t appear to be worth much at an auction until an old violin master got his hands on it. I used to love that song and recently found out it’s actually based on a 1921 poem by Myra Brooks Welch (copied below). Myra apparently heard an inspiring speech to high school students that motivated her to write this poem. She initially published it anonymously in a church newsletter, but it became quite famous, so her name was finally attached to it appropriately.
The poem is about much more than an old violin. It has a deeper spiritual message is about how God can fix people that are broken and scarred by life; auctioned cheap to a thankless world, which has a way of chewing us up and spitting us out. However, the good news is the world does not have the final say… God does. And you are worth far more to Him than you might realize. So, if you feel like an old, busted up violin, and want to learn more about the touch of the master’s hand, reach out to me through the “Contact Me” button on my website. I’d love to talk to you.
The Touch of the Master’s Hand
By Myra Brooks Welch (1921)
‘Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer thought it scarcely worth his while,
To waste much time on the old violin, but held it up with a smile.
“What am I bidden, good folks,” he cried, “Who’ll 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 grey-haired man came forward and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the dust from the old violin, and tightening the loosened strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet, as a caroling 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?” Swift came the reply: “The touch of the Master’s hand.”
And many a man with life out of tune, and battered and scarred 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 is “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 is wrought by the touch of the Master’s hand.
https://mypoeticside.com/poets/myra-brooks-welch-poems
(Wayne Watson’s song is also available on iTunes and Spotify, if you want to hear his beautiful version of this timeless poem)
