SUNDAY READING.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LV, Issue 199, 11 January 1913, Page 6

SUNDAY READING.

. LIFE'S INEXORABLE RECORD. Extract of Sermon preached bv the REV. R. J. LIDDELL in the Queen ■Street Primitive Methodist Church. "What I have written I have written."—John xix.-22. The words which Pilate inscribed on the cross, over the head of the dyin* Son of God. v>'ere "Jesus of Nazareth, lung of the Jews." They did not, however, represent the serious conviction of Pilate, for to him Jesus was a fanatic, a pretender who had aroused the anger of His countrymen by bis audacious claims. It was clearly evident to the judge that the Prisoner was not guilty of treason, but upon that charge He was condemned to be crucified. So the inscription on the cross was consistent with the verdict. The accusers of Jesus were indignant, and sought to have the declaration qualified. So they appealed to Pilate to alter the title saying. "Write not 'The King of the Jews'; but that He said, 'I am the King o*' the Jews.'" Pilate replied firmly, "What I have written I have written."

A chief part of language is orthography; there can be no language without it, no record apart from it. It is by the grouping of the twenty-six letters of the alphabet—those strange signs from A to Z—that we have the plays of Shakespeare, Homer's verse, all the splendor of Dante, and the history of nations. Century wi',l follow century, anil they will continue to yield novel effects in prose and verse. I got this text in the opening moments of this year in the watch-night service. As the Post Offies clock chimed the stroke of twelve, which tolled the knell of 1912 and ushered in 1913, this passage flashed through my mind, "What I foave written I have written"; and what every otlier man and woman had written for 1912 I knew was written and sealed for ever. WE ARE ALL ENGAGED WRITING OUR LIFE'S RECORD.

Our life is a book, our years are the chapters and our days are the pages. We are all writing every day the letters which make up our character. The sum total of what I have written is myself. Every letter is related to another, and all united make up the book of life. What I have written in the conduct of the past year I have written on my soul. What is written in the outward sphere of life is written in the secret depths thereof. We are reproducing ourselves before men day by Any. C-o-n-d-u-e-t spell "character." The record is a transcript of the original and God is not mocked. A man may deceive men, hut the base elements which constitute his character make up the record of his life which will be laid before the Judgment Seat of Christ.

What has .been the record of 1912? Has it been one of failure, defeat, mistakes, broken pledges, lost opportuni ties? A record of selfishness, narrowmindedness, unbelief, and sin? If so, the record is written and ail your tears cannot whiten a sing'ie page. On the other hand, if the record has been one of attaining wisdom, goodness, fidelity, love, the writing is written, and the record is known and kept by God. It runs like a dark thread through the whole book of some lives, and through others like a golden band. "What I have written I have written." ' THE RECORD IS UNALTERABLE. It is irreversible; time cannot obliterate it: man cannot touch it; God cannot change its character. The writing of yesterday cannot be altered to-morrow. It is possible to remove mountains, to change the course of the mighty river, but you cannot turn into white the black record of yesterday. Whatever t a-morrow may bring, the record of the past is closed. To-day is ours, to-mor-row will be what we make it, but yesterday i 3 beyond our control. Last year a man inserted a lie in his ledger, and a hundred years hence it will be true that"' he did write that lie with the intention of defrauding his neighbor. Nothing can destroy that fact. To-day it haunts him in his dreams; it is like a fire in his bones. He has tried to forget it. In solemn oblivion he buried the memory of his sin, but it rose again. Even repentance cannot alter it. That unalterable past is irrevocable. It is a record beyond the reach of time. Tt abides for ever when once written. There is much in our conduct that cannot be reversed. The word once spoken cannot be recalled; the deed once done cannot be undone. The book once issued begins at once to exercise an influence which cannot be bottled up again. The man who in youth sowed wild oats cannot stop the production of the harvest which lias sprung from -his folly. The hasty-tempered one whose words sink into the heart of a friend and stab him with something keener than a dagger, cannot undo the mischief he lias wrought. These things are as irreversable as the decrees of the Medes and Persians; as unalterable as Pilate's inscription. What wotiM we not give were it possible to remove a page, a line, or a word of the record? The poison of yesterday filters through the hours of to-day and banishes peace. The inquity of one black-letter day enwraps the soul in its awful shroud. Time leaves its touch upon the stoutest substance, but no powers can remove the writing, no catastrophe can alter the past. What I have written once I have written for ever.

What manner of persons therefore ought we to be. since all this is true? '■Don't write there." said a newsbov to a young dandy in a waiting-room of an English railway station when he saw liini take off his ring and begin with the diamond in it to scratch some words upon the surface of a mirror. "Don't write there." "Why not?" "Because you cannot rub It out." Ah! if we. could only remember that we cannot undo, reverse or obliterate the past, how careful we would be as to our manner of life! Tn this connection, how powerful the words uttered by .T. B. (Joiigh. Ho had been lamenting the past years of his intemperance. Tie would'have given his right hand if he could have undone the damage of those years. But they were irreversable. Therefore he cried. "Young man, keep your record clean." Let me re-echo those historic words: "Keep your record clean." Lay not up for yourselves a heritage of unavailing regret in the years that are to come. Clog not the' wheels of Tour future by the encumbering brakes of the past, for what you have written you have written for time and for eternity. THE RESPONSIBILITY OF THE

ROAD IS OURS. Pilate here accepts tho responsibility. The inscription was his. TTe seemed to soy: "It is my writing; I am not ashamed of it; the privilege and responsibility •are mine." A little while 'before he tried to excuse himself hy throwing the b'.ame c" someone else. ' Look at'liim. The senttnee has gone forth; he comes down from the judgment throne and washes 'his hands to show that although he sent the innocent Christ to die the responsibility for the act rests upon somebody else. But no, Pilate,; not all the waters of Jordan can remove the stains of your cowardly, selfish sin from the conscience or remove the record of it. The stains arc ther?. If you go down to hell you would find him at a similar task trying to wash away the stains of the Saviour's blood from'his conscience, | but trvine in vain.

So every man is responsible for his own writing. God keeps the record; not a single word of if is lost; mercifully He keep?; the record of our failures and sins. What I have, written is known to God. The unalterable record is before Him, and either commendation or condemnation is written across every page. Now. with these, thoughts before us as we stand facing another year, let us endeavor to keep our record clean* We cannot do it in our strength, but we can by the help of Jesus Christ, Who has left us an example that we should follow in His steps.