It's in His hands

Brazil Buzz

By Mary Lou Sartor

I mentioned to you in a previous article how much I love my beautiful violin. I wanted one ever since my maternal grandfather. John Andrew Login Siner played the instrument for me in his back yard in Hadleytown when I was a little girl. My mother told me later the German made violin was his favorite possession. She loved to hear the music that came from the talented musician and his old violin.

Like almost all things I have on my bucket list given more time; hopefully, I will be serenading my accomplishment .Unlike the like-new keyboard in the closet, purchased back in the ’ 70s that early on was not popular with my young audience . Just saying…

On the subject of a violin, I want to share with you a poem written by Myra Welch and sent to me by the late Rev. Wayne Kivitt, a former minister of Wesley Chapel Church, arranged by him 4/14 /’98.

“ THE TOUCH OF THE MASTER’S HAND ”

It was battered and scarred, and the auctioneer

Thought it was hardly worth his while

To waste much time on the old violin,

But he held it up with a smile;

“ What am I bidden, good folks?” he cried,

“ Who’ll start the bidden for me?

A dollar- -one dollar- - then two, only two

Two dollars, and who will make it three?

Going for three-- but no - -

From the room far back, a gray haired man

Came forward and picked up the bow;

Then wiped the dust from the old violin,

And tightened up 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, “Now what am I bid for the old violin?”

And he held it up with the bow;

“A thousand - - and who will make it two?

Two thousand and who’ll make it three?

Three thousand once three thousand twice- -

And going - - and gone twice,” cried he;

The people cheered, but some of them cried,

We do not understand;

What changed its worth?” Quick came the reply

“The touch of the Master’s hand.”

A mess of pottage- - a glass of wine,

A game- - and he travels on;

He is going once--and going twice - -

He’s almost gone!

And many a man with life out of tune,

And battered and scarred by sin,

Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd

Much like the old violin,

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.

God is good.