Thanksgiving Thought - The Master's Hand
Lilly Walters
Description
Collection
Title:
Thanksgiving Thought - The Master's Hand
Creator:
Lilly Walters
Date:
11/17/2000
Text:
When I was in the sixth grade I had a fantastic teacher - Mr. Gomm. I
learned and remember more insights for life from him, than any other
teacher: Better an hour to early, than a minute to late!
One day he read us a poem, The Touch of the Master's Hand. Things
about hands caught my attention in those days, as I had been in an
accident a few months before and lost most of my left hand. The
message stayed in my heart.
Thirty years later, I was working on a typing manual for kids with
one hand, and by accident, I came across that poem again. I wondered
who the author was. When I found her little told story, it occurred
to me there are few accidents. Not to my hand, nor in this poem
coming into my life again just at this time. I used it, and the
story in my typing manual.
Enjoy :)
-----
Exercise: Practice typing this poem, Touch of the Master's Hand,
by Myra Welsh, several times.
T'was 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 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 caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: What am I bid for the old violin?
And he held it up with the bow.
A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?
Two thousand! And who'll make it three?
Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice;
And 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 a master's hand.
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin.
A mess of potage, a glass of wine;
A game , and he travels on.
He is going once, and going twice,
He's going and almost gone.
But the Master comes and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that's wrought
By the touch of the Master's hand.
--
Meet Myra Brooks Welch
Myra Brooks Welch was called The poet with the singing soul. Hers
was a very musical family. As a young woman, Myra's special love
was playing the organ.
In 1921, she heard a speaker address a group of students. She said
became filled with light, and Touch of the Master's Hand wrote
itself in 30 minutes! She sent it anonymously to her church news
bulletin. She felt it was a gift from God, and didn't need her name
on it. It's popularity spread like magic. Finally, several years
later, the poem was read at a religious international convention -
author unknown. A young man stood up and said, I know the author,
and it's time the world did too. It was written by my mother, Myra
Welch.
Then her name, as well her other beautiful works of poetry became
known worldwide. All of her poetry told of the rejoicing she had in
God's love.
What the world did not see, was the woman who created these
masterpieces: Myra in her wheelchair, battered and scarred from
severe arthritis, which had taken away her ability to make music.
Instead, her musical soul spoke through her poetry.
She took one pencil in each of her badly deformed hands. Using the
eraser end, she would slowly type the words, the joy of them
outweighing the pain of her efforts. Her words, a joyous expression
of the wonders of life, as seen by a singing soul, touched by the
Master's Hand.
(c) 2000, Lilly Walters, from the One Hand Typing and Keyboarding Manual:
With Personal Motivational Messages From Others Who Have Overcome!
for more on one hand typing <URL Redacted>
****** No portion of this publication may be reproduced in any
manner whatsoever without prior written consent from Lilly Walters
*******
For information on use of this story,
Phone 626-335-8069, Fax 626-335-6127, E-mail <Email Address Redacted>
----
********************
To unsubscribe, send a message to: <Email Address Redacted> with
the words UNSUB OANDP-L in the body of the
message.
If you have a problem unsubscribing,or have other
questions, send e-mail to the moderator
Paul E. Prusakowski,CPO at <Email Address Redacted>
OANDP-L is a forum for the discussion of topics
related to Orthotics and Prosthetics.
Public commercial postings are forbidden. Responses to inquiries
should not be sent to the entire oandp-l list.
learned and remember more insights for life from him, than any other
teacher: Better an hour to early, than a minute to late!
One day he read us a poem, The Touch of the Master's Hand. Things
about hands caught my attention in those days, as I had been in an
accident a few months before and lost most of my left hand. The
message stayed in my heart.
Thirty years later, I was working on a typing manual for kids with
one hand, and by accident, I came across that poem again. I wondered
who the author was. When I found her little told story, it occurred
to me there are few accidents. Not to my hand, nor in this poem
coming into my life again just at this time. I used it, and the
story in my typing manual.
Enjoy :)
-----
Exercise: Practice typing this poem, Touch of the Master's Hand,
by Myra Welsh, several times.
T'was 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 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 caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: What am I bid for the old violin?
And he held it up with the bow.
A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?
Two thousand! And who'll make it three?
Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice;
And 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 a master's hand.
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin.
A mess of potage, a glass of wine;
A game , and he travels on.
He is going once, and going twice,
He's going and almost gone.
But the Master comes and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that's wrought
By the touch of the Master's hand.
--
Meet Myra Brooks Welch
Myra Brooks Welch was called The poet with the singing soul. Hers
was a very musical family. As a young woman, Myra's special love
was playing the organ.
In 1921, she heard a speaker address a group of students. She said
became filled with light, and Touch of the Master's Hand wrote
itself in 30 minutes! She sent it anonymously to her church news
bulletin. She felt it was a gift from God, and didn't need her name
on it. It's popularity spread like magic. Finally, several years
later, the poem was read at a religious international convention -
author unknown. A young man stood up and said, I know the author,
and it's time the world did too. It was written by my mother, Myra
Welch.
Then her name, as well her other beautiful works of poetry became
known worldwide. All of her poetry told of the rejoicing she had in
God's love.
What the world did not see, was the woman who created these
masterpieces: Myra in her wheelchair, battered and scarred from
severe arthritis, which had taken away her ability to make music.
Instead, her musical soul spoke through her poetry.
She took one pencil in each of her badly deformed hands. Using the
eraser end, she would slowly type the words, the joy of them
outweighing the pain of her efforts. Her words, a joyous expression
of the wonders of life, as seen by a singing soul, touched by the
Master's Hand.
(c) 2000, Lilly Walters, from the One Hand Typing and Keyboarding Manual:
With Personal Motivational Messages From Others Who Have Overcome!
for more on one hand typing <URL Redacted>
****** No portion of this publication may be reproduced in any
manner whatsoever without prior written consent from Lilly Walters
*******
For information on use of this story,
Phone 626-335-8069, Fax 626-335-6127, E-mail <Email Address Redacted>
----
********************
To unsubscribe, send a message to: <Email Address Redacted> with
the words UNSUB OANDP-L in the body of the
message.
If you have a problem unsubscribing,or have other
questions, send e-mail to the moderator
Paul E. Prusakowski,CPO at <Email Address Redacted>
OANDP-L is a forum for the discussion of topics
related to Orthotics and Prosthetics.
Public commercial postings are forbidden. Responses to inquiries
should not be sent to the entire oandp-l list.
Citation
Lilly Walters, “Thanksgiving Thought - The Master's Hand,” Digital Resource Foundation for Orthotics and Prosthetics, accessed November 6, 2024, https://library.drfop.org/items/show/215347.
