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Poetry

The Touch of the Master's Hand

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 Contents - Sep 2006AD2000 September 2006 - Buy a copy now
Editorial: 2006 Fighting Fund launched - Peter Westmore
Conscience: AD2000 interviews Cardinal Pell - Cardinal George Pell
USA: Liberal Christianity goes into meltdown - Charlotte Allen
News: The Church Around the World
Chavagnes: Catholic education in a secular culture - Alexander Morrison
History: The Counter Reformation and the Jesuits - John Morrissey
Family in Society: Asian and Australian families face similar challenges - Leslie Sammut
Clergy: ACCC Annual Conference focuses on theology of Benedict XVI - AD2000 Report
Letters: Thomas Groome (letter) - C. Hungerford-Morgan
Letters: Baptism - Mark Moriarty
Letters: Correction to last month's reflection on Baptism - John Young
Letters: Communism - Frank Bellet
Letters: African pen-friend - Fr Vincent Kajoba
Letters: Safe Sex? - Arnold Jago
Letters: Judicial activism - Henk Verheven
Letters: Stolen faith - Marie Adamo
Letters: Helping the Carmelites - Beth Burns
Letters: Thank-you note - A. van Tilburg
Poetry: The Touch of the Master's Hand - Myra Welch
Books: William Bernard Ullathorne: A Different Kind of Monk, by Judith Champ - Michael Gilchrist (reviewer)
Books: Advancing the Culture of Death, by Peter Hung Manh Tran - Peter Westmore (reviewer)
Books: Why Must I Suffer? by Fr F.J. Remler CM - Jacinta Cummins (reviewer)
Books: Stimulating reading from Freedom Publishing
Reflection: Cardinal Arinze on the need for Eucharistic reverence - Cardinal Francis Arinze

The Touch of the Master's Hand

It was battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste his time on the old violin
But he held it up with a smile.
"What am I bidden, good people," he cried,
"Who'll start the bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar! Now 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 up the strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet,
As sweet as an 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 don't 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 torn with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd
Much like the old violin.
A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,
A game, and he travels on.
He's 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.

Myra Welch
(Submitted by Br Con Moloney CFC)

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Reprinted from AD2000 Vol 19 No 8 (September 2006), p. 15

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