William Dixon was an infidel. Even if there was a God, which he doubted, he would not forgive Him for the death of his wife and young son about two years after they were married. Dixon felt very desolate and bitter.

Ten years after Mary Dixon's death a stirring event occurred in their little village. Old Peggy Winslow's cottage caught fire and burned to the ground. The poor old woman was barely pulled out alive when the bystanders were horrified by a child's pitiful cry. It was the voice of little Dickey Winslow, Peggy's orphan grandchild. The flames had awakened him and driven him shrieking to the attic window.

Onlookers were terribly distressed to see the child's plight, but felt it was too late to save him as the stairs had already fallen in. Suddenly, William Dixon rushed to the burning cottage, climbed up the iron piping, and took the trembling boy in his arms. Down he came again, holding the child in his right arm, and, supporting himself by his left, the two reached the ground in safety, amid the cheers, just as the smoking wall fell.

Young Dickey was not hurt, but the hand with which Dixon held on to the hot piping was terribly burned. The burn healed, but left a deep scar that he would carry to his grave.

Poor old Peggy could not rally from the shock, and died soon after. Dixon asked permission from the authorities to raise the young boy whose life he had saved. Upon seeing his badly scarred hand, permission was granted for him to have custody of little Dickey.

So a new era began for both the man and boy. Dickey never missed a mother's care, for Dixon was both father and mother to the orphan boy, and lavished all the pent-up tenderness of his strong nature upon the child.

Dickey was a clever boy, and quickly responded to his adopted father's training. He adored him with all the fervor of his loving little heart. He remembered how "daddy" had saved him from the fire, and had claimed him because of the hand so dreadfully burned for his sake. It moved Dickey to tears, with kisses on the hand that had been scarred for him.

One summer there was an art exhibit in the town and Dixon took Dickey to seem them. The boy was greatly interested in the pictures and the stories his daddy told about some of them. The picture that impressed him most was one of Jesus reproving Thomas, underneath which were the words: "Reach hither thy finger, and behold My hands" (John 20:27).

Dickey read the words and said, "Daddy, tell me about that picture."

"No, not that one!"

"Why not that one?"

"Because I do not believe it."

"Oh, but that's nothing," urged Dickey; "you don't believe the story of 'Jack the Giantkiller,' yet it's one of my favorites. Tell me the story of the picture, please." So Dixon told the story and it interested Dickey greatly.

"It's like you and me, daddy," said the boy. "When you wanted to get me, you showed them your hand. Perhaps when Thomas saw the scars on the Good Man's hands he felt that he belonged to Him."

"I suppose so," answered Dixon.

"The Good Man looked so sad," said Dickey. "He was probably sorry that Thomas did not believe at first. It was not nice of him, was it, after the Good Man had died for him?"

Dixon did not answer, and Dickey went on, "It would have been bad of me if, when they told me about you and the fire, l didn't believe you had done it, wouldn't it, daddy?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"But perhaps he loved the Good Man after that, though—like I love you. When I see your poor hand, daddy, l love you more than millions and millions," said the boy.

Tired little Dickey fell asleep before he had measured the amount of his grateful affection, but Dixon's rest was sorely disturbed that night. He could not get out of his thoughts the picture of that tender, sorrowful face which had looked down on him from the walls of the exhibition.

He did not yield to this influence at once, but his love for Dickey had softened his heart and the seed that was dropped in it that day did not fall upon stony ground. Dixon was an honest man. He could not fail to see that his scarred hand which was used to make Dickey his own, rose up in judgment against him as long as he denied the claim of Christ's scarred hands which had been pierced for him (Psalm 22:16).

So, one day, Dixon yielded his heart to the Lord Jesus, confessing his sins to the Saviour, and believing that Christ died for his sins. He learned, by reading the Bible, that from the moment of his conversion he belonged to Jesus eternally (Ephesians 1:13; John 10:28), and he gave himself into those blessed hands as "a living sacrifice … unto God" (Romans 12:1).

Have you also bowed to the claims of the love of Christ? Can you not see Him dying on Calvary's cross for you —dying that He might put your sins away?

"He was despised, and we esteemed Him not…. He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities" (Isaiah 53:3,5).

"His own self bare our sins in His own body on the tree" (1 Peter 2:24).

"His visage was so marred more than any man, and His form more than the sons of men" (Isaiah 52:14).

May the response of your heart be like that of William Dixon: "Lord I believe You died for me, and I take You now as my Saviour and Lord."

—Selected