The Touch of the Master's Hand

In the interest of not having extremely long posts, I did not include this poem in my last post about the worth of souls. However, I feel like I need to post it because this is one of my favorite poems. Think about the potential symbolic meanings in this poem. For example: How the master wiped the dust off and tightened the loose strings in comparison with the Master, Jesus Christ, cleansing us and giving us strength to overcome our weaknesses. Another example of symbolism I have found in this poem: the violin needs a bow to produce the glorious music. The "master" in this poem uses the bow to help the crowd see the true worth of the seemingly worthless violin. Just as that master used the bow, so the real Master, our Savior, can use each of us as a bow - an instrument in His hands - to help the world see the true worth of someone who they think is not worth anything.

I love my Savior and know that it is through Him that we can discover and achieve our potential as children of God. His Atonement makes that blessing possible. I hope that each of you realize how incredible you are and how much you are worth to God. That is all that matters in the end, anyway. What man thinks of you has no bearing on your eternal destiny.

The Touch of the Master's Hand

By Myra Brooks Welch

'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 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 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, "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.