If I offered you a crisp one hundred dollar bill would you take it? Now if I took that same $100.00 and crinkled it in my hand and then offered it to you, would you still take it? What if I took the crinkled money and put it in my garden and got it all dirty? How about then?
I believe you would still take the money because you would recognize that no matter if it’s crisp and new or crinkled and dirty the value is still the same. It will still spend at the store. I believe that’s the way with a soul. It matters not to God where that soul has been or how broken and dirty it is, they are still of great value to God and should be to us.
I am reminded of the old poem, “The Touch of The Master’s Hand” that my Dad used so many times when preaching about and to the lost. I want to see every soul through the eyes of compassion. Let’s value every one we meet and those who enter our church doors. No matter how ragged, soiled or broken, just one touch of His hand can make them a New Creature.
It was battered and scarred,
And the auctioneer thought it
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?”
“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 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 by sin,
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 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 Master’s Hand.
written by: Mary B. Welch
This is a beautiful post. Thank you.
Becky, You’re welcome. I’m glad this touched you.
Many Blessings!
What a beautiful, inspiring post. May we all be stirred by your words and the accompanying poem.
Sis. Hopper, I’m praying to stay stirred too.
Blessings!
I can hear him quoting this as I read it. Daddy had the most awesome voice!!
Karla, I could hear Daddy’s voice too. He did have an incredible preaching voice.
YES HE DID, Karla! I hear him at this moment and I also hear Mother playing, “The Old Rugged Cross” in the background as Daddy recites the poem. Oh, how I miss them! Thank you, Ronda for this post. It’s beautiful!
Linda, I miss mother and daddy every day. Of course sometimes it’s worse than others. I have learned, as I’m sure you and Karla have that it is something we will never get over. We just learn to deal with it. I’m so thankful for the hope we have. We will be together for eternity.
My! I haven’t heard that in a very long time. I can remember Dad when I was a very young teen or even adolescent reciting the very poem. Thanks, Sis. Hurst for sharing. I’m going to save it. It was one of the lost childhood memories. My dad loved outreach and did everything to stir a burden for the lost in our congregation, too. We must be a compassionate church.
Tracie, Thank God for good Dad’s! I’m glad this brought back a good/lost childhood memory.
Blessings!
I want to see the lost through God’s eyes. Thanks for such a beautiful post!
Carla, You’re welcome! Keep up the good work you all are doing.
Blessings!
Great post! This story is so tender, that’s the only word I can say. The Master is tender.
I’ve heard a song about the auction block before – it made me cry.
I too still miss my parents at times – I guess you never “outgrow” them, my grandmaman asked for here mother in the end.
Of course the difference is God. Thank God for His promise of Eternity with Him and those gone before!
Catherine,
Yes, the Master is tender.
We never do “outgrow” our parents. I too am thankful for His promise.
Blessings to You!
Sis. Hurst,
This is a great post! Thanks for sharing this idea and reminding us that every soul counts no matter where they come from or how deep in sin they are. I plan to use this idea for a youth service. Thanks for sharing and God bless.
I hope your youth service turns out good.
Blessings to you and yours!
Great post! I haven’t heard that song in years. It’s a classic indeed!
Thank You. Yes it is a classic.