Christmas Evans, the Preacher of Wild Wales / His country, his times, and his contemporaries

by Edwin Paxton Hood

His appearance in preaching, his entire presence, is described as most majestic, and commanding: his voice was very loud, and it is said, a word from his mouth would roll over the people like a mighty wave. “Look at that window,” said an aged deacon, in North Wales, to a minister, who had come to preach at the chapel to which the former belonged, “look at that window! It was there that Ebenezer Morris stood, when he preached his great sermon from the words, ‘The way of life is above to the wise, that he may depart from hell beneath,’ and when we all turned pale while we were listening to him.” “Ah!” said the minister, “do you remember any portion of that sermon?” “Remember!” said the old deacon; “remember, my good man? I should think I do, and shall remember for ever. Why, there was no flesh here that could stand before it!” “What did he say?” said the minister. “Say! my good man,” replied the deacon; “say? Why, he was saying, ‘Beneath, beneath, beneath! Oh, my people, hell is beneath, beneath, beneath!’ until it seemed as if the end of the world had come upon us all in the chapel, and outside!”

When Theophilus Jones was selected as Rowland Hill’s co-pastor at Wooton-under-Edge, Ebenezer Morris came to preach on his induction. In that place, the audience was not likely to be a very sleepy one, but this preacher roused them beyond their usual mark, and strange stories are told of the sermon, while old Rowland sat behind the preacher, ejaculating the whole of the time; and many times after, when Mr. Hill found the people heavy, and inattentive, he was in the habit of saying, “We must have the fat minister from Wales here, to rouse you up again!” We know his likeness very well, and can almost realize his grand, solemn manner, in his black velvet cap, which made him look like a bishop, and gave much more impressiveness to his aspect, than any mitre could have done.

This Ebenezer Morris was the son of a man eminent in his own day, David Morris, of whom it was said, that he scarcely ever preached a sermon which was not the means of the conversion of men, and in his evangelistic tours he usually preached two, or three times a day. There is a sermon, still spoken of, preached at Rippont Bridge, Anglesea. The idea came to him whilst he was preaching, that many of the people before him might surely be lost, and he burst forth into a loud dolorous wail, every line of his countenance in sympathy with his agonizing cry, in Welsh, which no translation can render, “O bobl y golled fawr! y golled fawr!” The English is, “O ye people of the great loss! the great loss!” It seems slight enough to us, but it is said that the people not only moved before his words, like reeds in a storm, but to this day they speak in Anglesea of David Morris’s sermon of “The Great Loss.”

The great authority for the most interesting stories of the religious life in Wales, is the “History of Welsh Methodism,” by the late Rev. John Hughes, of Liverpool; unfortunately, we believe it only exists in Welsh, in three volumes, amounting to nearly two thousand pages; but “Welsh Calvinistic Methodism; a Historical Sketch,” by the Rev. William Williams, appears to be principally a very entertaining digest, and condensation, of many of the most noticeable particulars from the larger work. There have certainly appeared, from time to time, many most interesting, and faithful men in the ministry of the Gospel in Wales, quite beyond the possibility of distinct mention; some of them were very poor, and lowly in life, and circumstances. Such was Thomas Hughes. He is described as a man of small talent, and slender knowledge, but of great holiness, and with an intense faith that many of his neighbours were in a very bad condition, and that it was his duty to try to speak words to them, whereby they might be saved. He used to stand under the old walls of Conway, and numbers gathered around him to listen; until at last he excited the anger of the vicar, who caused him to be arrested, and brought into his presence, when the following conversation took place:—

Vicar. “You ought to be a learned man, to go about, and to be able to answer deep questions.”

Hughes. “What questions, sir?”

Vicar. “Here they are—those which were asked me by the Lord Bishop. Let’s see whether you will be able to answer them. Where was St. Paul born?”

Hughes. “In Tarsus.”

Vicar. “Hem! I see that you know something about it. Well, can you tell me who took charge of the Virgin Mary after our blessed Redeemer was crucified?”

Hughes. “John.”