Knights of the Pain Table

A Camelot for Sufferers of Chronic Pain

The Old Violin by Ernest Longstaffe -The Touch of the Master’s Hand





The Old Violin by Ernest Longstaffe -The Touch of the Master’s Hand

The Old Violin

It was battered and scarred and the auctioneer thought it scarcely worth his while to waste much time on the old violin, but he held it up with a smile.

What am I bid, good folks?" he cried. "Who’ll start the bidding for me?

A guinea! A guinea! Two Only two? Two guineas! Who’ll make it three? Three guineas once! Three guineas twice! Going for three!"

But no. From the room, far back, a grey-haired man came forward and picked up the bow, then wiping the dust from the old violin and tightening the loose strings he played a melody pure and sweet, as a carolling angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer, in a voice that was quiet and low, said: "What am I bid for the old violin?" and held it up with the bow.

"A thousand guineas? Who’ll make it two? Two thousand? And who’ll make it three? Three thousand once, three thousand twice, 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 the Master’s hand."

And many a man, with a life out of tune, and battered and scarred with sin, is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd, much like the old violin. A mess of pottage, a glass of wine, a game as he travels on, he’s going once, he’s going twice, he’s going and almost gone, but the Master comes and the foolish crowd can never quite understand the worth of a soul, and the change that’s wrought by the touch of the Master’s hand.

by Ernest Longstaffe

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