A Voice From Hell
"Oh, why am I here in this place of unrest
When others have entered the land of the blest? God's way of salvation was preached unto men; I heard it and heard it, again and again.
Why did I not listen and turn from my sin
And open my heart and let Jesus come in?
For vain earthly pleasures my soul did I sell--
The way I had chosen has brought me to hell.
I wish I were dreaming, but ah, it is true.
The way to be saved I had heard and I knew;
My time on the earth, oh, so quickly fled by,
How little I thought of the day I would die.
When God's Holy Spirit was pleading with me,
I hardened my heart and I turned from His plea.
The way that was sinful, the path that was wide,
I chose and I walked till the time that I died.
Eternally now, I must dwell in this place.
If I from my memory could but erase
The thoughts of my past which are haunting me so.
Oh, where is a refuge to which I can go?
This torture and suff'ring, how long can I stand?
For Satan and devils this only was planned.
God's refuge is Jesus, the One that I spurned;
He offered salvation, but from Him I turned.
My brothers and sisters I wish I could warn.
Far better 'twould be if I had not been born.
The price I must pay is too horrid to tell--
My life without God led directly to Hell."
Oh, soul without Christ, will these words be your cry?
God's Word so declares it that all men must die.
From hell and its terrors, Oh, flee while you may!
So, come to the Saviour; He'll save you today!
- Oscar C. Eliason
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 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 . . ."
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 up the 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 now am I bid for this old violin?"
As 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 the 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 pottage, a glass of wine;
A game - and he travels on.
He's 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.
By Myra Brooks Welch
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