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}