Luyện nghe bài hát The Master's Hand

Writer Myra Brooks

"Twas battered and scared, and the
Thought it worth his while
To waste much on the old violin,
But he it up with 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 far back a gray-haired man
Came and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the from the old violin,
And up the strings,
He a melody,pure and sweet,
As as an angel sings.
The music ceased and the
With a voice that was and low,
Said: "What am I for the old violin?"
And he held it up the bow;
"A thousand dollars - and make it two?
Two thousand - and who'll it three?
Three thousand once, three thousand
And going - and gone," he.
The people cheered, but of them cried,
"We do not understand -
changed its worth?" The man replied:
"The touch of the hand."
And many a man life out of tune,
And battered and torn sin,
Is auctioned to a thoughtless crowd.
Much 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 MASTER comes, and the crowd,
can quite understand,
The worth of a soul, and the change wrought
By the of the MASTER'S hand.