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
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 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 a 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's wrought by the touch of the Master's hand.
Battered and scarred, rejected, neglected and forgotten many walk through the days of their lives. In the days of Jesus and his disciples the lepers were the outcast of society. Who are the lepers of our day? Some walk as outcasts due to choices made, but often the ones we pass by are victims of a world filled with pride and selfishness, filled with hearts hardened and filled with blind eyes that will not see. I pray for the eyes to see, for in my life I have passed by the hungry, the lost and the hurting without lifting a hand or a prayer. My heart has softened and I see more than in past days, but I pray that I will never pass by and not see. The touch of the Master's hand can still heal the sick, can still rescue and save the lost, and his hand can still show us the value of the battered, the scarred, the rejected, the forgotten and the lost. We are not the Master, but we are to be instruments in the Master's hand, and our life is to be a melody that calls out unto all who are in need. May the instruments in his hand open eyes and open hearts and not pass by without seeing this day.