Lyrics:

'Twas battered and scared, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely 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 bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar - now who'll make it 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 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 bidden 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?' The man replied:
'The touch of the masters 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.