Spiritual Thoughts

  Friday Tale - The Touch of the Master's Hand ‘T was battered and scarred, And the auctioneer thought it hardly worth his while To waste his time on the old violin, but he held it up with a smile. “What am I bid, good people,” he cried, “Who starts the bidding for me?” “One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?” “Two dollars, who makes it three?” “Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three,”   But, No, From the room far back a gray bearded man Came forward and picked up the bow, Then wiping the dust from the old violin And tightening up the strings, He played a melody, pure and sweet As sweet as caroling angel sings.   The music ceased and the auctioneer With a voice that was quiet and low, Said “What now am I bid for this old violin?” As he held it aloft with its’ bow. “One thousand, one thousand, Do I hear two?” “Two thousand, Who makes it three?” “Three thousand once, three thousand twice, Going and gone,” said he.   The audience cheered, But some of t...

  Friday Tale - Reaching Out A  frail  old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four year old grandson. The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered.          The family ate together at the table. But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.          The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess. "We must do something about Grandfather," said the son. I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor.          So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner. Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl. ...

  Friday Tale - Touch of the Master's Hand   'T 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 bidden, good folks?” He cried, “who’ll start the bidding for me? A dollar - one dollar - then two, only two - Two dollars, and who’ll make it three? Going for three” - BUT no - From the room far back, a gray-haired man Came forward and picked up the bow; Then wiping the dust from the old violin, And tightening the loosened strings, He played a melody pure and sweet As a caroling angel sings.                          The music ceased and the auctioneer,                        With a voice that was quiet and low,                       ...