Randy Suits

The Touch of the Master’s Hand

My lovely Ewa,

My heart is overflowing with love for you this morning. Our God has been good to us. Another day brings new hope and opportunity to work with the Most High God in his eternal plan to restore all that was tarnished and cast aside as worthless by the devil who trampled the image of man (God said, “let us make man in our image”) in the day of his creation. Satan beguiled Eve and used her to bait her husband Adam into sin and death (eternal separation from God Almighty). Thus Adam and Eve exchanged holiness and love for sin (perversion of righteousness for self aggrandizement) and hatred of God (absence of love). But glory to the Holy Father of Lights and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, our God had the final Word. He would redeem and restore the worthless, neglected and tarnished old man of sin by sending the great musician of the soul of Man, His only begotten Son, Jesus Christ to retune the strings of our soul and play music appropriate for the courts of the Eternal Father of Love. The presence of Jesus, one like ourselves, born of woman, after the eternal order of the only true God, eternal in the universe, heavens and earth and his Father, quickens our spirit and restores the flesh. What was once worthless, fit only to be thrown in the trash, instantly became priceless treasure worth more than gold. When Christ came into our lives we experienced the touch of the masters’ hand. I love you more because you’re Gods’ property than because you are mine. Because you belong to our God first, you will always belong to me. An old traditional American folk song, recorded by Porter Wagoner, expresses this message in a clear and accurate way.

Touch of the Master’s Hand

Written by: MYRA BROOKS WELCH, TEX RITTER, TOMMY DOUGLAS ALLSUP

‘Twas battered and scarred and the old auctioneer

He thought it scarcely worthwhile

To waste much time with the old violin

But he held it up with a smile

What am I bid, good folk, he cried

Who’ll start the bidding for me

A dollar, a dollar, come, who’ll make it two

Two dollars, now who’ll make it three

Three dollars once and three dollars twice

And going for three — but no

From the back of the room a grey haired man

Stepped forward and picked up the bow

And brushing the dust from the old violin

And tightening up the loose strings

He played a melody pure and so sweet

Sweet as the angels sing

When the music ceased the old auctioneer

In a voice that was quiet and low

Asked, What am I bid for the old violin

And he held it up with the bow

A thousand dollars — come, who’ll make it two

Two thousand, and who’ll make it three

Three thousand once and three thousand twice

And going and gone, cried he

And the people shouted, and 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 he’s 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 is wrought

By the touch of the master’s hand

When we met, my sweet, it was surely a touch of the masters’ hand. In closing I write the following verse in praise of the Captain of our souls.      Written by: Randy Suits

He reached down to us and guided our souls,

So they blended in love we now know.

Together we’ll stand by the touch of His hand

Who redeemed us and now makes us whole.

As He touched us let us also touch one another, Kochany