Luyện nghe bài hát The Master's Hand

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Writer Myra Welch

"Twas battered and scared, and the
it scarcely worth his while
To waste time 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 make it
"Three once, three dollars twice,
for three". . . but no!
From the room far a gray-haired man
forward and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the from the old violin,
And up the strings,
He a melody,pure and sweet,
As sweet as an sings.
The music ceased and the
With a that was quiet and low,
Said: "What am I for the old violin?"
And he held it up the bow;
"A thousand - and who'll make it two?
Two thousand - and who'll it three?
thousand once, three thousand twice
And - and gone," said he.
The cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not understand -
What changed its worth?" The man
"The touch of the hand."
And many a man life out of tune,
And battered and torn 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 once, and going twice -
He's - and almost 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.