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'Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer thought it scarcely worth his while to waste much time on the old guitar, but held it up with a smile. "What am I bid, good folks?" he cried. "Who'll start the bidding for me?" "A pound, a pound"; then, "Two!" "Only two? Two pounds and who'll make it three? Three pounds once; three pounds twice; going for three-." But no, from the room, far back, a man came forward and picked up the pick, then, wiping the dust from the old guitar and tightening the loose strings, he played a melody pure and sweet as a carolling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer with a voice that was low and quick, said: "What am I bid for the old guitar?" and he held it up with the pick. "A thousand pounds 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?" Swift came the reply: "The touch of a master's hand."
And many a man with life out of tune, and battered with sin and scarred, is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd, much like the old guitar. A 'mess of pottage', a glass of wine; a game - and he travels on. He is '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.
The Boss - Honest, Reliable, Passionate about Music and in particular guitars. He plays acoustic and electric guitar regularly and absolutely loves valve gear.
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