Mr. Evans was a good-looking man, nearly six feet high, and well proportioned. His intellectual faculties, phrenologically speaking, were amply developed. He had lost one of his eyes in his youth, but the other was large and bright enough for two. It had a peculiarly penetrating glance; and when kindling under the inspiration of the pulpit, added wonderfully to the effect of his eloquence. All his features were expressive of intelligence and love; his whole bearing, dignified and majestic; and the blending of great and amiable qualities in his character commanded at once the reverence and the confidence of all who knew him.

MORAL AND CHRISTIAN CHARACTER.

From the time of his conversion to the day of his death, Mr. Evans exhibited a consistent and exemplary piety. Though he several times fell into darkness and doubt, and lost a portion of his burning zeal, he never forfeited his place in the church, or tarnished his Christian name. The uprightness of his deportment was acknowledged by all his neighbors; and those of other denominations, differing widely from him in creed and custom, always accorded to him the reputation of “a holy man of God.” But his piety was never ostentatious or austere. Modesty and humility were among his most prominent qualities, and a high degree of Christian cheerfulness characterized his conversation. However low, at times, his religious enjoyment, he was always careful to walk with becoming circumspection before the world, that the cause of Christ might suffer no reproach through his imprudence.

SOCIAL DISPOSITION.

Mr. Evans was naturally of a quick and irritable temper; but Divine Grace subdued his constitutional impetuosity, made him “gentle toward all men,” and clothed him with “the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit.” He was eminently social in his feelings, and took great delight in the company of his friends. It cost him no effort to render himself agreeable in any society. In the cottage and the mansion he was equally at home, and the unlettered peasant and the erudite philosopher were equally interested by his conversation. He never had any children of his own, but was always remarkably fond of the children of others. After discoursing for an hour on the sublimest topics of the Christian faith, in a style befitting their importance, to the great delight, and often to the amazement of all who heard him, he would descend to the relation of some pretty story, in a manner so affectionate and familiar as at once to win the hearts and enlighten the minds of half a dozen bright-eyed little creatures, grouped around him like Peter Parley’s scholars in the picture.

READING AND STUDY.

Mr. Evans was a great lover of books. He seized and devoured with avidity every interesting volume that fell in his way. He never resorted to reading, however, as a mere pastime. He sought for mental and spiritual treasures to enrich his sermons. For this he beat the fields and dug the wells of knowledge. Every thing was made subservient to his holy calling. Every thing was pressed into his preparations for the pulpit. His authors were selected with prudent discrimination, and perused with earnest attention, indicating an intense desire to be thoroughly furnished for his work. He studied what he read. He was extensively acquainted with the best theological writers of the age, and quoted them frequently in his discourses. But there is one volume to which he referred more frequently than to all the rest, “the book of books divine.” He was emphatically “a man mighty in the Scriptures.” From the word of God he derived the principal matter of his preaching. Even that lofty imagery which constituted the peculiar charm of his ministry, was ordinarily but an amplification of scriptural tropes and descriptions. In theology, next to the Bible, Dr. Owen was his favorite author. He paid considerable attention to Oriental manners and customs; was well read in history, ancient and modern; and particularly fond of tracing the rise and fall of empires.

DEVOTIONAL HABITS.

Mr. Evans was eminently a man of prayer. Prayer was his daily bread, the very breath of his spirit. He considered himself entitled, through Christ, to all the blessings of the gospel, and came boldly to the throne of grace in every time of need. During his whole ministerial life, much of his time was spent in the closet. It was his custom for many years, to retire for devotion three times during the day, and rise regularly for the same purpose at midnight. The disorders of the church, the slanders of his enemies, and the various afflictions of life, all drove him to the mercy-seat, and made him peculiarly earnest and importunate in supplication. After these seasons of agony, he came into the church, or the social circle, as an angel from the presence of God, and “all his garments smelt of myrrh and aloes and cassia from the ivory palaces.”

He never undertook a new enterprise, without first asking counsel of the Lord. When he had a call to another field of labor, he could not decide upon the matter till he had spread it repeatedly before the throne. When he was about to preach at an association, or on any important occasion, he wrestled for hours with the angel of the covenant, nor relinquished his hold till he felt himself “endued with power from on high.” Then he came forth to the congregation, as Moses from the Tabernacle, when he had communed with God. Just before leaving home on his tour of collection for the Caernarvon church, the last labor of his life, he penned in his book of appointments the following paragraph:—

“O Lord, grant me my desire on this journey, for thy name’s sake. My first petition;—Comfort in Christ—the comfort of love—the bowels of love and mercy in the denomination—the fellowship of the Spirit.—Amen. My second petition;—That the sermons I have prepared for this journey may increase in their ministration, like the five loaves and two fishes.—Amen. C. E.”

CHRISTIAN BENEFICENCE.

Mr. Evans was a poor man, but “rich in good works.” Suffering poverty always excited his pity, and opened his purse. Wherever he beheld distress, he was “ready to distribute, willing to communicate,” according to the ability which God had given him. His salary in Anglesea, for twenty years, was only seventeen pounds per annum; and afterward, only thirty. With so small an income, he could not be expected to bestow much upon the various objects of charity. But he gave annually one pound to the Bible Society, one pound to the Missionary Society, and ten shillings to the Baptist Education Society, besides contributing liberally to the relief of the poor and the sick in his neighborhood.

Sometimes his liberality was larger than his purse. Once, when a Protestant Irishman, poorly clad, told him that he spent much time in reading the Scriptures to his illiterate countrymen, he pulled off his own coat, and gave it to him. At another time, he presented a poor Jew, who had recently been converted to Christianity, a new suit of clothes, the best he had in his wardrobe. While in Anglesea, he visited a brother in the church, who had been reduced by protracted illness to a condition of great distress; and finding the family almost in a state of starvation, emptied his pocket of the only pound he had. His wife remonstrated with him, told him she had not bread enough in the house to last twenty-four hours, and demanded what he would do now he had given away all his money. His only answer was: “Jehovah-jireh; the Lord will provide!” The next day he received a letter from England, enclosing two pounds as a present. As soon as he had read it, he called out to his wife;—“Catherine! I told thee that Providence would return the alms-pound, for it was a loan to the Lord; and see, here it is, doubled in one day!” It is evident from this incident, that Mr. Evans’ liberality was the fruit of his faith in God; and the good man’s confidence is never put to shame. “There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth.”

SPIRIT OF FORGIVENESS.

“Be ye merciful, even as your Father who is in heaven is merciful.” There is no virtue more beautiful in its character, or more important to the Christian, than that thus enjoined by the Son of God. The spirit of forgiveness infinitely transcends all the effects of mere human philosophy, and allies man to his Maker. In this amiable quality, Christmas Evans was never wanting. He took a thousand times more pleasure in pardoning the offender, than the offender in asking his pardon. “It was only,” says his Welsh biographer, “for the person who had given offence to make some sort of acknowledgment, to say there had been a misunderstanding. Mr. Evans would anticipate him with:—‘O, say nothing about it! let it be buried! very likely I have been in fault myself!’” The spirit of Mr. Evans’ diary everywhere corroborates this description of his character. We extract a single paragraph:—

“I trust that by the grace of God, I have overcome my natural disposition to anger and revenge. I have been enabled to forgive my greatest enemies, and pray that they may be forgiven of God. I can say from my heart, with Stephen; ‘Lord, lay not this sin to their charge!’ I have no wish that any of them should suffer for their attempts to injure me, but that they may all be led to repentance, and settle their matters at the mercy-seat, where I hope also that the multitude of my own trespasses will be covered and forgotten.”

His mercy was as impartial as it was cordial. He had held a controversy with a minister of another sect, who, forgetting the rules of Christian courtesy, treated him very unkindly before the public. This minister was afterward arraigned and imprisoned on a very serious allegation. If he had been convicted, degradation from the ministry would have been the smallest part of his punishment. Mr. Evans, learning the fact, and believing the prosecution unjust and malicious, felt greatly distressed for his polemical opponent. On the day of trial, he retired to his room, and poured out his heart to God on his behalf, for a long time, and with peculiar fervor. Then he waited with great anxiety for the issue. As he sat at the table, with several friends and brethren, a minister, who had been at court, entered the room, and said; “Mr. — is acquitted!” Mr. Evans instantly fell upon his knees, with tears streaming down his face, and exclaimed:—“Thanks be unto thee, O Lord Jesus! for delivering one of thy servants from the mouth of the lions!” He then arose, saluted his friend, and joined in the mutual congratulations of the company.

CATHOLIC GENEROSITY.

That Christmas Evans was no bigot, might be inferred from the above anecdote. But we have other and ampler evidence of his Christian catholicity. He was a Baptist; and, with the rest of his brethren, a strenuous advocate for exclusive immersion. He was a Calvinist, and thought it very important to vindicate against Arminian views what are sometimes called “the doctrines of grace.” But he was also a Christian, and held all other Christians as brethren. He did not repudiate the sincerely pious, because they could not say his “Shibboleth.” Kind, candid, and ingenuous, he judged of things according to their real value and importance, and appreciated true talent and virtue wherever he found them. His creed was not; “I am of Paul;” nor, “I am of Apollos;” nor, “I am of John the Baptist;” but, “We are all of Christ!” He was not blinded by the senseless prejudice of sect. He was influenced less by the peculiarities of his denomination than by the love of Christ. Many of his warmest friends were ministers of other orders; and of the Methodists and Congregationalists at Caernarvon, he made honorable mention in his diary.

The most despicable reptile of the moral world is envy, the spirit that prompted revolt in heaven, and hurled archangels down to hell. Yet it is often found among Christians; among the ministers of a religion whose very principle is charity. Some men, like king Saul, can never bear a rival. If the thousands of Israel raise the voice and tune the lyre in honor of some victorious David, the evil spirit comes upon them, and they launch their javelins at the young anointed, and seek “to smite him even to the wall.” From such feelings Mr. Evans was always free. His large heart was utterly incapable of anything of the kind. He esteemed others better than himself, and in honor preferred his brethren. Wherever he discovered talent and sanctified ambition in a young preacher, he never exerted an influence to hinder him, but heartily bade him God speed. He did not deem it necessary to smite him on the head with a cudgel to keep him in his place. He was not afraid that others would outshine him in the pulpit. He would gladly have taken his place at the feet of any of Christ’s ambassadors. He was willing to accord due praise to merit, not only in the dead, but also in the living; not only in those of other countries and other denominations, but also in those of his native principality and the Baptist church. His immediate contemporaries and neighbors were often the subjects of his highest encomiums. His heart was as large as the world!

INGENUOUSNESS AND HONESTY.

A late American writer has said of insincerity, that it is the most detestable of all vices for which men go unhung. Yet it must be admitted, there is no vice more prevalent, even among the professed followers of Him, “who knew no iniquity, neither was guile found in his lips.” The sentiment, that it is right to deceive for the good of the church, is not peculiar to the Papists. Perhaps the enlightened Protestant can scarcely be found, who would verbally avow such a doctrine; but it is often practically avowed, even by the messenger of truth; and ecclesiastical elevation is sometimes attributable more to dishonesty than to real virtue or talent.

Christmas Evans’ popularity, however, could boast a better origin. It was the spontaneous fruit of his graces and his gifts. He was never indebted to unfair and underhanded measures for his success. His conduct was always open and ingenuous. Of deceit and secret design he was incapable. He never attempted to build up his own church by proselyting the converts of other churches. In one instance, when a young man, who had been educated for the ministry in the established church of England, came to him, desiring baptism by immersion, instead of eagerly seizing upon so valuable an acquisition to the Baptists, as some doubtless would have done, he endeavored to dissuade him from his purpose, and yielded at length only to his fervent importunity.

He deemed the slightest departure from truth, in any instance, a crime, and a deep disgrace to the Christian character. He was innocent and unsuspecting as a child. His frank and confiding disposition was unquestionably the occasion of most of his heavy trials. Jealous and malicious men took advantage of his Christian simplicity, and made one of his sweetest virtues a poison to his peace.

He once employed a person to sell a horse for him at a fair. After some time, he went out to see if he was likely to succeed. There was a man bargaining for the animal, and the contract was nearly completed.

“Is this your horse, Mr. Evans?” said the purchaser.

“Certainly it is,” he replied.

“What is his age, sir?”

“Twenty-three years.”

“But this man tells me he is only fifteen.”

“He is certainly twenty-three, for he has been with me these twenty years, and he was three years old when I bought him.”

“Is he safe-footed?”

“Very far from that, I assure you, or I would not part with him, and he has never been put in harness since I have had him either.”

“Please to go into the house, Mr. Evans,” whispered the man whom he had employed to make the sale, “for I shall never dispose of the horse while you are present.”

The frank manner, however, in which Mr. Evans told him all the truth, induced the dealer to make the purchase at a very handsome price; while it procured for Mr. Evans a good name, which is better than gold.

SARCASTIC REBUKES.

In conversation he was always careful of the feelings of others. He would never employ a sarcastic remark, but for the purpose of merited rebuke. “It is better,” said he, “to keep sarcasms pocketed, if we cannot use them without wounding the feelings of a friend.” But he was capable, when occasion required, of wielding this weapon with terrible effect. Take the following instances:—

Just before his removal from Cardiff to Caernarvon, he was conversing on the contemplated change in a circle of several ministers. His labors had been solicited in two or three other places, and the company were canvassing the comparative claims of the different churches. A feeble-minded young man present, who “thought more highly of himself than he ought to think,” said:—“It is my opinion, Father Evans, that you had better go to Caernarvon. It is not likely your talents would suit either of the other places, but I think you might do very well at Caernarvon.” Mr. Evans opened his large eye upon the speaker, and replied;—“And hast thou peeped? When didst thou creep from the shell?”

Once, two ministers, of different sects, were disputing in his presence on what he deemed an unimportant matter of ecclesiastical discipline. One of them asked:—“What say you, Mr. Evans?” Mr. Evans replied:—“I saw two boys quarrelling over two snails. One of them insisted that his snail was the better, because it had horns; while the other as strenuously argued for the superiority of his, because it had none. The boys were very angry and vociferous, but the two snails were friends.” The disputants burst into a hearty laugh, and the debate ended.

A shallow atheist was ridiculing the idea of a God, because, as he alleged, he had no sensible evidence of his being. Mr. Evans answered:—“My friend, the mole in the meadow has never seen a king; shall he therefore say there is no king? O thou atheistic mole! thou hast never travelled out of thy own narrow field; and if thou hadst, thou hast no eyes to see with; and wilt thou dare to say there is no God? Dost thou think all others as blind as thyself? All that thou canst say is, that thou dost not see God, and dost not wish to see him. How dost thou know that the being of a God is not so manifest on the other side of the river of death, that no doubt is entertained concerning it throughout all the expanse of eternity? Can the earth-mole say there is no grand Lama in Thibet? Poor worm! thou must travel through the gates of death, and fathom the bottomless pit, and measure the land of destruction, and scale the very heaven of heavens, and surround all the borders of time and eternity, before thou canst assure thyself there is no God!”

PULPIT TALENTS AND LABORS.

As a preacher, Mr. Evans was very peculiar. No translation of his sermons can give the English reader an adequate idea of their force and beauty in the original.

He was exceedingly methodical and perspicuous. His arrangement was never loose and vague; his thoughts never confused and mingled together. He was a “wise master-builder,” who took care to lay a broad and firm foundation, and then “built thereon gold, silver, and precious stones.” The several parts of his discourse bore a mutual relation of dependence, and each would have been incomplete without the others. His order was so natural, that it was very easy to follow him; and his manner so impressive, that it was nearly impossible to forget him.

He never spoke on a subject that he did not understand. Before entering the pulpit, he invariably measured his text in all its extent, and considered it in every possible aspect. “He had a wonderful method,” says one, “of making the most abstruse passages appear easy and plain. He interpreted scripture by scripture, and exhibited the component parts of his subject in a clear and beautiful manner, and illustrated them by the most appropriate and striking metaphors; and forging link by link, united them together, and bound the whole up in one glorious chain. His talents were such as to enable him to cast a ray of light upon the darkest points of the Christian system.”

Mr. Evans’ descriptive powers were altogether unique. He abounded in allegories of the most forcible character. In this respect, he was equaled by none of his contemporaries; transcended by none of his predecessors. Passages of this kind will be so frequently met with in the following selection from his sermons, that it is not necessary to point them out to the reader.

His happy art of description is attributable chiefly to a very remarkable imagination. This is one of the primary qualities of an orator. When it is lacking, no depth of learning, no graces of delivery, can compensate for its lack. True, argument is important. There is no eloquence without argument. Argument must constitute the bone and the sinew of every good discourse. But the bone and the sinew constitute only the skeleton. Imagination must supply the muscle and the nerve. Imagination must clothe it with beauty, and inspire it with life; give expression to the features, animation to the eye, and to the tongue motion and melody articulate. Argument is the John Baptist of eloquence, after whom there cometh a mightier, baptizing with fire!

“Logic,” says Carlyle, “is good, but not the best. The irrefragable doctor, with his chain of inductions, his corollaries, dilemmas, and other cunning logical diagrams and apparatus, will cast you a beautiful horoscope, and speak you reasonable things; nevertheless, the stolen jewel which you wanted him to find you is not forthcoming. Often, by some winged word, winged as the thunderbolt is, of a Luther, Napoleon, Goethe, shall we see the difficulty split asunder, and its secret laid bare; while the irrefragable, with all his logical roots, hews at it, and hovers round it, and finds it on all sides too hard for him.”

Mr. Evans had feeling as well as fancy. This in a preacher is even more important than the other. Here, we conceive, lies the principal distinction between the orator and the poet. Poetry is the language of fancy; eloquence, the language of feeling. The preacher who operates only on the judgment and the fancy may instruct and please, and thus prepare the way for persuasion. Persuasion itself requires a warm and glowing heart. Eloquence has been defined, “the power of imparting one’s feelings to others.” “If you want me to weep,” said Horace, “you must weep yourself.” The preacher who is himself unmoved, will toil in vain to move his hearers. His sermon may be as beautiful as the moon-beams on the snow; but it will be as powerless and as cold. As saith Longinus:—“The orator must have a vehement and enthusiastic passion, a certain madness, or divine phrensy, breathing into his thoughts, and inspiring his speech.” To use the language of another:—“Truth must be planted in the hot-bed of feeling, if we would witness its flowery development, and enjoy its fruit. The orator must be roused and inflamed by the majesty of his theme; not wrought up into an unmeaning fury, like a tempest in a tea-pot; but influenced and agitated by solemn considerations of truth, duty, interest, and moral grandeur.”

If this description of eloquence was ever realized in the pulpit, it was in the preaching of Christmas Evans. He spoke what he felt, and because he felt. The fountain was in his own soul, and it flowed out upon his audience in streams of living water. He was always full of his subject, and his ordinary manner was exceedingly ardent and pathetic. Sometimes he seemed quite overwhelmed with the magnitude and grandeur of his theme, and then he spoke with such impassioned earnestness as to storm the hearts of his hearers. Thus inspired, it was scarcely possible that any man of ordinary sensibilities should be otherwise than eloquent. But Mr. Evans’ talents were of a superior order; and when kindling with the enthusiasm of his message, he became peculiarly energetic and impressive. “His words came out,” as Longinus says, “as if discharged from an engine,” and their influence rested like a spell upon the ear and the heart. He transported his hearers beyond the region of argument, and leaving all their cavils and prejudices immeasurably behind, rapt them away to the third heaven of ecstasy!

The secret of all this power is found in the preacher’s piety. He was a man of eminent faith and holiness. The “things new and old” for the edification of his hearers, he “brought forth out of the treasure of his own heart.” The love of God within him imparted to his preaching a wonderful unction. His splendid mental creations were instinct with the inspiration of sanctified feeling. This divine anointing often rendered him superior to himself, clothed him with a superhuman energy, till he seemed a messenger from the other world. The man was lost in his theme. Art was swallowed up in the whirlpool of excited feeling. The audience were swept irresistibly along by the current of the discourse; acknowledging, by tears and groans, the preacher’s hold upon their hearts; and sometimes losing all self-control, and bursting into the most extravagant expressions of wonder and delight. On this subject take the language of one, who, from personal acquaintance with Mr. Evans, was qualified to form a correct estimate of his character as a Christian minister:—

“He was also an experimental preacher. That a preacher feel his subject, constitutes one of his excellencies; but that his sermon be deeply imbued with the spiritual experience of the preacher, is the Crowning point of his excellency. It is true, a person may speak well of the distress of other people, but he will speak more powerfully of his own distress. Persons may expatiate very eloquently on the pleasant fragrance of the herbs and flowers of foreign lands, but those who have themselves participated in the fragrant odors, in the soft breezes of those countries, can describe them in an infinitely superior manner, and to much greater advantage. Many may speak fluently of the mercies of God, in providence and grace—protecting, preserving, pardoning sinners, &c., but those who have experienced a sense of the divine mercy in their own souls can speak much better of it. Mr. Evans had an experience of the things of God. Not only had he heard of Calvary, but in Calvary he lived; not only had he heard of the bread of angels and of the corn of heaven, but this bread and this corn were his daily food; not only had he heard of the river of life, the streams whereof make glad the city of our God, but the crystal waters of this river were his constant drink; not only had he heard of the renewing influences of the grace of God, but he himself had been made the subject of these influences. He had experienced the operations of the Spirit renovating his own heart, and therefore he could speak of them, not as a matter of hearsay, but with the apostle—‘And what our hands have handled of the Word of life, declare we unto you.’” [71]

Mr. Evans’ preaching was highly evangelical. “Jesus Christ and him crucified,” was the alpha and omega of his ministry. The character of the following sermons fully justifies that remarkable saying upon his death-bed: “I have never labored without blood in the basin.” Every one of them is illustrative of some important point in the economy of salvation. Every one of them tends to humble the sinner, and exalt the grace of God. Every one of them abounds with lofty views of the Divine Justice and Mercy.

“It is generally allowed,” observes his friend, “that the people who are trained by a minister, and moulded by his instructions, are a good evidence of the tendency of his doctrine and ministry. In this view then, it is observed, the church where he more statedly labored in Anglesea, and where the most of his care and efforts were bestowed, were a people mighty in the Scriptures; that they would converse well and readily on most of the doctrines of the Christian faith; that they labored much to improve in knowledge, and were active in the cause of religion. These nearly all were Mr. Evans’ own people; they were nurtured by him, and upon his ministerial food they grew to be men, and were wholly according to the mold of his doctrine. It has been remarked, ‘that if volumes upon volumes were written upon the subject of the tendency of his ministry, it could never be exhibited to greater advantage than has been done by himself, in those bright, clear, and golden letters, which he has inscribed upon the people of his charge at Llangevni.’”The following extracts from Mr. Evans contain his views of the evangelical over the legal style of preaching:—

“While a preacher inculcates duties in any way but with a view to the promises of mercy, and of undeserved strength, he is more like to a moral philosopher, than to the apostles and preachers that have been a blessing unto men, such as Whitefield, and hundreds who have been in a degree blessed in the same doctrine, and by the same Spirit. It is not in the duties we are to rest, but in Christ. ‘Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord—that they may rest from their labors, and their works follow them.’ It was not in reliance upon their works they passed through the river of death, as if presumptuously on a bundle of rushes, but their works will meet them in the judgment day; to be weighed there in the balance of the faith and love of Christ; and they will be there as witnesses on the part of the saints, bearing testimony that the love of Christ constrained them to live to him that died for them and was raised again.”

Again:—

“By endeavoring to avoid the bog, you sink in the quicksands—while you are hiding the system of grace, and casting it, as it were, into the shade—duties without faith are not acceptable, for ‘Without faith it is impossible to please God.’ I compare you to a dry-goods merchant, who should hang up a piece of white cloth over the shelves of his store, where the cloths, fine linen, silks, &c., are kept, and thus hiding every article in his store, without exposing any thing to the view of his customers, yet he would stand at the counter, and address them in the language of surprise, Why do you not buy here, for I know you have wherewith? So some preach, standing like the store-keeper at the counter, saying, while the doctrine of grace is kept put of sight, Why do you not buy here? for we know that you have the money of ability; but you spend your money in the shops of the lusts of the flesh, the lusts of the eye, and the pride of life. But they reply, What shall we buy, sir? you tell us that there is salvation in your store—and fine linen wrought out from Bethlehem to Calvary, and white raiment; gold and pearls, and food and drink indeed; but you hide them under the vail: bring them to the counter, and open them before us; show us, carefully and plainly, whence this salvation proceeds, and by what means it has been procured;—has it been expensive to some one, seeing it is free for us?”

Once more:—

“I compare such preachers to a miner, who should go to the quarry where he raised the ore, and taking his sledge in his hand, should endeavor to form bars of iron of the ore in its rough state, without a furnace to melt it, or a rolling-mill to roll it out, or molds to cast the metal, and conform the casts to their patterns. The gospel is like a form or mold, and sinners are to be melted, as it were, and cast into it. ‘But ye have obeyed from the heart that form of doctrine which was delivered you,’ [73] or into which you were delivered, as is the marginal reading, so that your hearts ran into the mold. Evangelical preachers have, in the name of Christ, a mold or form to cast the minds of men into; as Solomon, the vessels of the temple. The Sadducees and Pharisees had their forms, and legal preachers have their forms; but evangelical preachers should bring with them the ‘form of sound words,’ so that, if the hearers believe, or are melted into it, Christ may be formed in their hearts—then they will be as born of the truth, and the image of the truth will appear in their sentiments and experience, and in their conduct in the church, in the family, and in the neighborhood. Preachers without the mold, are all those who do not preach all the points of the gospel of the grace of God.”

Christmas Evans was in labors more abundant than any of his Welsh contemporaries. We have stated in the memoir, that while in Anglesea, he frequently preached five times a day, and walked twenty miles. During his ministry, he made forty journeys from North to South Wales, and preached one hundred and sixty-three associational sermons. It is wonderful that his extensive travels and arduous labors did not hurry him to the grave before he had lived out half his days. But he had a firm and vigorous constitution; and having borne the burden and the heat of the day, the Master sustained him in the vineyard till the setting of the sun.

And his labors were as successful as they were extensive. “The sound of heaven,” remarks his friend “was to be heard in his sermons. He studied his discourses well; he ‘sought to find out acceptable words, even words of truth;’ and the Holy Ghost attended his ministry in an extraordinary manner.”

Few men of modern times have had a more numerous spiritual family than he. Wherever he went, throughout all Wales, multitudes claimed him as their father in Christ. “In his day the Baptist associations acquired their great popularity, and in his day arose a number of the most respectable ministers ever known in the principality.” Some of them were his own converts, and many of them had their talents inspired and their zeal inflamed under his powerful ministry. “Life and evangelical savor,” said one of them, “attend Christmas Evans, wherever he is.” “None of us,” said another, “understand and comprehend the full extent of his usefulness.” The celebrated Robert Hall mentioned his talents in terms of high commendation, and ranked him among the first men of his age. A Congregational clergyman, who was well acquainted with him, speaks of him as follows:—

“He is a connecting link between the beginning and the ending of this century. [74] He has the light, the talent, and the taste of the beginning, and has received every new light that has appeared since. He was enabled to accompany the career of religious knowledge in the morning, and also to follow its rapid strides in the evening. In this he is unlike every other preacher of the day: the morning and evening light of this wonderful century meet in him. He had strength to climb up to the top of Carmel in the morning, and remain there during the heat of the day, and see the fire consuming the sacrifice and licking up the water; his strength continued, by the hand of the Lord, so that he could descend from the mount in the evening, and run without fainting before the king’s chariot to Jezreel.”

We conclude this brief and somewhat imperfect portraiture with the following characteristic paragraph from the pen of Mr. Evans, illustrative of his views, not only of the right kind of pulpit ministration, but also of the injurious influence and tendency of the principal theological controversies which during his day agitated the Baptist churches in the principality of Wales:—

“I consider that a remarkable day has begun upon Wales. The dawn of this day was with Vavasor Powell and Walter Caradork; the former amongst the Baptists and the latter amongst the Independents (Congregationalists). Several churches were gathered in both denominations in the twilight of morning. But when Rowlands and Harris rose—it was the sunrising of this revival day. Mr. Jones, of Pontypool, was one of the sons of the sunrising. About ten or eleven o’clock, a host of Baptists, Calvinistic Methodists, and Congregationalists, arose; and among this class I had the honor of entering the field. The day was warm—the sermons and prayers were short, and the doctrine was evangelical. But I have reached the evening, and the day is greatly cooled. Power, tenderness, and the cross of Christ, marked the sermons in the morning; but length and tediousness are the distinguishing features of the prayers and sermons in the evening. It was too warm to preach two hours in the heat of the day. It appears, also, that talents are become much weaker and more effeminate as the evening spreads its shades. Beyond a doubt, the preaching of intricate points—something like questions concerning the law, and endless genealogies, have been the means of cooling the work and the workmen in the evening of the day. They will now lift up their heads and talk to every traveller that passes the field; and towards Merionethshire, they will inquire, ‘Dost thou know any thing about Sandemanianism?’ and in other districts they will ask, ‘Dost thou know something about Williamsism [75] and Fullerism?’ and in consequence you may see young doctors many, springing up, talking like learned Lilliputians. ‘Some say that Christ died for all, and others that it was for his church he died; but the truth is this,’ said the Lilliputians: ‘he did not die for any man, but for the sin of all men.’ I was there also on the great platform of this period, but I dared not condemn all systems by a sweeping sentence of infallibility, and take the bagpipe under my arm, as some were disposed to do, and cry down every new voice without proving it. ‘Prove all things.’”