The Touch of the Master's Hand
Words by Myra Brooks Welch, with a chorus by Kevin Ball; music by Kevin Ball with Suno. Produced with Suno.
The story
I first heard this poem years ago, and it spoke to me personally. In the years since, I've found it has spoken to many, many more.
I believe each of us, at some point in life, has felt battered, unseen and not worth much...like an old violin going for a few dollars at an auction, with no one in the room seeing what it could be.
Then the Master picks it up. He wipes away the dust, tightens the strings, and plays. Nothing about the violin has changed except whose hands it's in...and that changes everything.
Myra Brooks Welch wrote the poem a century ago. I added the chorus to say that last part plainly: what was broken and scarred, rejected and worn, He takes and makes whole.
Kevin
Lyrics
Verse 1
’Twas battered and scarred,
and the auctioneer thought
It was hardly worth his while
To waste his 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?”
Verse 2
"Three dollars once,
and three dollars twice,"
It was going for three - but no.
From the room far back
a gray-bearded man
Came forward and picked up the bow.
He wiped the dust
from the old violin
And he tightened up the strings,
Then he played a melody, pure and sweet
As caroling angel sings.
Verse 3
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!
Bridge
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 Master’s hand.”
Verse 4
And many a man
with a life out of tune,
All battered with bourbon and gin,
Is auctioned cheap
to a thoughtless crowd
Much like that old violin.
A mess of pottage,
a glass of wine,
A game—and he travels on.
He’s going once,
and he’s going twice,
He’s going and almost gone.
Chorus
Oh, it’s the touch of the Master’s hand
That changes the song of a soul.
What was broken and scarred,
rejected and worn,
He takes it and makes it whole.
From a dollar bid to a price untold,
Now we finally understand—
The music that rises, the beauty revealed
By the touch of the Master’s hand.
Outro
The worth of a soul,
the change that is wrought,
By the touch of the Master’s hand.
By the touch of the Master’s hand.
The touch...In the Master’s hand.