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 faith of the Church anticipated the coming of Christ, ‘like a
roe or a young hart,’ with the dawn of the day promised in Eden; and
we hear her exclaiming in the Canticles—‘The voice of my beloved!
behold, He cometh, leaping upon the mountains, and skipping upon the
hills!’ She heard Him announce His advent in the promise, ‘Lo, I
come to do Thy will, O God!’ and with prophetic eye, saw Him leaping
from the mountains of eternity to the mountains of time, and skipping
from hill to hill throughout the land of Palestine, going about doing
good. In the various types and shadows of the law, she beheld Him
‘standing by the wall, looking forth at the windows, showing Himself
through the lattice;’ and then she sang—‘Until the day break and the
shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like the roe or the
young hart upon the mountains of Bether!’ Bloody sacrifices revealed
Him to her view, going down to the ‘vineyards of red wine;’ whence
she traced Him to the meadows of Gospel ordinances, where ‘He feedeth
among the lilies’—to ‘the gardens of cucumbers,’ and ‘the beds of
spices;’ and then she sang to Him again—‘Make haste’—or, flee
away—‘my beloved! be thou like the roe or the young hart among the
mountains of spices.’
“Thus she longed to see Him, first ‘on the mountain of Bether,’ and
then ‘on the mountain of spices.’ On both mountains she saw Him
eighteen hundred years ago, and on both she may still trace the
footsteps of His majesty, and His mercy. The former, He hath tracked
with His own blood, and His path upon the latter is redolent of
frankincense and myrrh.
“Bether signifies division. This is the craggy mountain of Calvary;
whither the ‘Hind of the Morning’ fled, followed by all the wild
beasts of the forest, and the bloodhounds of hell; summoned to the
pursuit, and urged on, by the prince of perdition; till the victim,
in His agony, sweat great drops of blood—where He was terribly
crushed between the cliffs, and dreadfully mangled by sharp and
ragged rocks—where He was seized by Death, the great Bloodhound of
the bottomless pit—whence He leaped the precipice, without breaking a
bone; and sunk in the dead sea, sunk to its utmost depth, and saw no
corruption.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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