How often in life are we touched by God’s hands and helping hands just when we start losing faith and hope? How many testimonies have we heard of poor souls hitting “rock bottom” and being able to reposition themselves to bring joy back into their lives? God delivers miracles everyday, especially with the help of his chief helpers (human beings). If God can change a caterpillar into a butterfly, surely he can change conditions in our lives. Our downs often make us grow stronger; and help us to reflect on and make necessary changes for harmonious lives. Our down points can actually take us to heights that we never imagined. As Christians, we should always have faith in the touch of the Master’s Hand. Also, we should never lose faith in any of God’s people, because in doing so, are we not losing faith in what God can do? I would like to share this old poem, that still holds truth today.
The Touch of the Master’s Hand
by Myra Brooks Welch (1926)
It was battered and scarred,
And the auctioneer thought it
hardly worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
but he held it up with a smile.
“What am I bid, good people”, he cried,
“Who starts the bidding for me?”
“One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?”
“Two dollars, who makes it three?”
“Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three,”
From the room far back a gray bearded man
Came forward and picked up the bow,
Then wiping the dust from the old violin
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet
As sweet as the angel sings.
The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said “What now am I bid for this old violin?”
As he held it aloft with its’ bow.
“One thousand, one thousand, Do I hear two?”
“Two thousand, Who makes it three?”
“Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
Going and gone”, said he.
The audience cheered,
But some of them cried,
“We just don’t understand.”
“What changed its’ worth?”
Swift came the reply.
“The Touch of the Masters Hand.”
And many a man with life out of tune
All battered and scarred with sin
Is auctioned cheap to a thankless world
Much like that old violin.
A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,
A game and he travels on.
He is going once, he is going twice,
He is 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 Masters’ Hand.