Luyện nghe bài hát The Master's Hand

Writer Myra Brooks

"Twas and scared, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his
To much time on the old violin,
But he it up with a smile.
"What am I bidden, folks," he cried,
"Who'll start for me?
A dollar, a dollar - now who"ll it two _
Two dollars, and who"ll make it
"Three dollars once, dollars twice,
for three". . . but no!
From the room far a gray-haired man
Came forward and 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 voice was quiet and low,
"What am I bidden for the old violin?"
And he it up with the bow;
"A thousand dollars - and who'll it two?
Two - and who'll make it three?
Three thousand once, thousand twice
And going - and gone," 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 to a thoughtless crowd.
like the old violin.
A "mess of pottage," a of wine,
A game and he on,
He's going once, and going -
He's - and almost gone!
But the comes, and the foolish crowd,
Never can understand,
The of a soul, and the change that's wrought
By the touch of the hand.