I Loved to Hear Grandma Recite Poems

By: Don Doran
Elsie was known by most of the family and many church friends for the poems she would recite. Many times in a church service, I remember her sharing a poem, from memory, during the "testimony service". Some were serious, a few had a little humor but all had a message of life that all could apply.

The poem that I remember my Grandma reciting most often was the poem about the old violin. As she would recite the poem, I would feel like I was actually at the auction and could hear the call of the auctioneer. Then as the poem ended with the bid for a man's soul, I again felt I could hear the call of the auctioneer.

I really loved to hear Grandma share these poems from her heart.

The Touch Of The Master's Hand
'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.
-- Myra Brooks Welch