Christmas Evans, the Preacher of Wild Wales: His country, his times, and his contemporariesHood, Edwin Paxton
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Christmas Evans, the Preacher of Wild Wales: His country, his times, and his contemporaries
Hood, Edwin Paxton
Evans, Christmas, 1766-1838
“The water flowed _in twelve different channels_; and, according to
Dr. Pococke, of Scotland, who visited the place, the deep traces in
the rock are visible to this day. But the twelve streams, one for
each tribe, all issued from the same fountain, in the same rock. So
the great salvation flowed out through the ministry of the twelve
apostles of the Lamb, and went abroad over all the earth. But the
fountain is one. All the apostles preached the same Saviour, and
pointed to the same cross. ‘Neither is there salvation in any other,
for there is no other name under heaven, given among men, whereby we
must be saved.’ We must come to this spring, or perish.
“The flowing of the waters _was irresistible by human power_. Who
can close the fountain which God hath opened? can Edom, or Moab, or
Sihon, or Og dam up the current which Jehovah hath drawn from the
rock? Can Caiaphas, and all the Jews, aided by the prince of this
world—can all the powers of earth and hell combined—arrest the work
of redemption, and dry up the fountain of mercy which Christ is
opening on Calvary? As soon might they dry up the Atlantic, and stop
the revolutions of the globe. It is written, and must be fulfilled.
Christ must suffer, and enter into His glory—must be lifted up, and
draw all men unto Him—and repentance, and remission of sins must be
preached in His name among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem.
“_The water flowing from the rock was like a river of life to the
children of Israel_. Who can describe the distress throughout the
camp, and the appearance of the people, when they were invited to
approach a flinty rock, instead of a fountain, or a stream, to quench
their thirst? What angry countenances were there, what bitter
censures, and ungrateful murmurings, as Moses went up to the rock,
with nothing in his hand but a rod! ‘Where is he going,’ said they,
‘with that dry stick? What is he going to do on that rock? Does he
mean to make fools of us all? Is it not enough that he has brought
us into this wilderness to die of thirst? Will he mock us now by
pretending to seek water in these sands, or open fountains in the
solid granite?’ But see! he lifts the rod, he smites the rock; and
lo, it bursts into a fountain; and twelve crystal streams roll down
before the people! Who can conceive the sudden transport? Hear the
shout of joy ringing through the camp, and rolling back in tumultuous
echoes from the crags, and cliffs of Horeb,—‘Water! water! A
miracle! a miracle! Glory to the God of Israel! glory to His servant
Moses!’ It was a resurrection-day to Israel, the morning light
bursting upon the shadow of death. New life, and joy are seen
throughout the camp. The maidens are running with cups, and
pitchers, to the rock. They fill, and drink; then fill again, and
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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