Luyện nghe bài hát The Master's Hand

Writer Myra Welch

"Twas battered and scared, and the
Thought it scarcely his while
To waste much on the old violin,
But he held it up a smile.
"What am I bidden, folks," he cried,
"Who'll bidding for me?
A dollar, a - now who"ll make it two _
Two dollars, and who"ll make it
"Three once, three dollars twice,
for three". . . but no!
From the room far a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the
Then wiping the dust the old violin,
And up the strings,
He a melody,pure and sweet,
As as an angel sings.
The music and the auctioneer
With a voice that was and low,
"What am I bidden for the old violin?"
And he held it up the bow;
"A thousand dollars - and who'll it two?
Two thousand - and who'll make it
thousand once, three thousand twice
And - and gone," said he.
The people cheered, but some of cried,
"We do not quite -
What its worth?" The man replied:
"The touch of the hand."
And many a man life out of tune,
And and torn with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to a crowd.
like the old violin.
A "mess of pottage," a of wine,
A and he travels on,
He's going once, and going -
going - and almost gone!
But the comes, and the foolish crowd,
can quite understand,
The of a soul, and the change that's wrought
By the touch of the hand.