Although we have heard it many times, the poem about the old violin never fails to touch my heart. Myra Brooks Welch penned this masterpiece entitled, "The Touch of the Master’s Hand."

"Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer thought it scarcely worth his while to waste much time on the old violin, but held it up with a smile. ‘What am I bidden, good folks,’ he cried. ‘Who’ll start the bidding for me? A dollar, a dollar’; then, ‘two! Only two? Two dollars, and who’ll make it three? Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice; 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 loose strings, he played a melody pure and sweet as a caroling angel sings.

"The music ceased, …