The Master's Hand --

Some time ago, I put this beautiful poem by Dorothy Barter on my Blog.  I happened to see it yesterday, and felt like I wanted to share it again.

     "I never knew the old, brown violin,
That was so long in some dark corner thrust --
      Its strings broken or loose, its pegs run down,
Could ever be of use again.
      The dust of years lay on its shabby case,
Until one day a Master took the instrument,
      And with caressing fingers touched the wood,
Adjusted pegs and strings --
      His mind intent on making music as he drew his bow.
Then from the violin, long silent,
      Sprang once more arpeggios, runs, trills.
The wood quivered, leapt into life, and joyous sang.

      I now believe that any broken life,
Jangling with discords, unadjusted --
      Tossed in some far corner, wasted, thrown aside --
Can yet be of some use --
      Need not be lost from Heaven's orchestra.
A Master's Hand, scarred with old wounds,
      Can mend the broken thing if yielded to Him wholly;
And can make the dumb life speak again, and joyous sing
      In praise of One who gave His life that none need perish.
And this message, glad, most blest, I now believe;
      For placing in His Hand my life, I find my world is now at rest."

My friend, before we meet Jesus, we are like the screechy and battered old brown violin.  We are battered instruments -- life's strings have been snapped -- life's bow has been bent!  And yet, if we will only yield to the Master, and let Him touch and mend our broken, sinful life -- from our battered, broken, shattered and marred instrument, He can bring forth music fit for the angels!   
Thank you, dear Jesus, for "The Touch of the Master's Hand"!