Luyện nghe bài hát The Master's Hand

Writer Myra Welch

"Twas battered and scared, and the
Thought it scarcely worth his
To waste much on the old violin,
But he held it up a smile.
"What am I bidden, folks," he cried,
"Who'll start for me?
A dollar, a - now who"ll make it two _
Two dollars, and who"ll it three?
"Three once, three dollars twice,
for three". . . but no!
From the room far back a man
forward and picked up the bow;
Then the dust from the old violin,
And up the strings,
He a melody,pure and sweet,
As sweet as an sings.
The music ceased and the
a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: "What am I for the old violin?"
And he it up with the bow;
"A thousand - and who'll make it two?
Two thousand - and who'll make it
Three thousand once, thousand twice
And going - and gone," he.
The cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not understand -
What its worth?" The man replied:
"The of the masters hand."
And a man with life out of tune,
And battered and with sin,
Is cheap to a thoughtless crowd.
Much the old violin.
A "mess of pottage," a of wine,
A game and he on,
He's once, and going twice -
He's going - and gone!
But the comes, and the foolish crowd,
Never can understand,
The worth of a soul, and the that's wrought
By the of the MASTER'S hand.