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
“Now we see the chariot surrounded with enemies—Herod, and Pilate,
and Caiaphas, and the Roman soldiers, and the populace of Jerusalem,
and thousands of Jews who have come up to keep the Passover, led on
by Judas and the devil. See how they rage and curse, as if they
would tear him from his chariot of mercy! But Jesus maintains his
seat, and holds fast the reins, and drives right on through the angry
crowd, without shooting an arrow, or lifting a spear upon his foes.
For in that chariot the King must ride to Calvary—Calvary must be
consecrated to mercy for ever. He sees the cross planted upon the
brow of the hill, and hastens forward to embrace it. No sacrifice
shall be offered to Justice on this day, but the one sacrifice which
reconciles heaven and earth. None of these children of Belial shall
suffer to-day. The bribed witnesses, and clamorous murderers, shall
be spared—the smiters, the scourgers, the spitters, the
thorn-plaiters, the nail drivers, the head-shakers—for Jesus pleads
on their behalf: ‘Father, forgive them! they know not what they do.
They are ignorant of Thy grace and truth. They are not aware of whom
they are crucifying. Oh, spare them! Let Death know that he shall
have enough to do with _me_ to-day! Let him open all his batteries
upon _me_! _My_ bosom is bare to the stroke. _I_ will gather all
the lances of hell in _my_ heart!’
“Still the chariot rushes on, and ‘fiery darts’ are thick and fast,
like a shower of meteors, on Messiah’s head, till He is covered with
wounds, and the blood flows down His garments, and leaves a crimson
track behind Him. As He passes, He casts at the dying malefactor a
glance of benignity, and throws him a passport into Paradise, written
with His own blood; stretches forth His sceptre, and touches the
prison-door of death, and many of the prisoners came forth, and the
tyrant shall never regain his dominion over them; rides triumphant
over thrones and principalities, and crushes beneath his wheels the
last enemy himself, and leaves the memorial of his march engraven on
the rocks of Golgotha!
“Christ is everywhere in the Scriptures spoken of as a Blessing; and
whether we contemplate His advent, His ministry, His miracles, His
agony, His crucifixion, His interment, His resurrection, or His
ascension, we may truly say, ‘All His paths drop fatness.’ All His
travels were on the road of mercy; and trees are growing up in His
footsteps, whose fruit is delicious food, and ‘whose leaves are for
the healing of the nations.’ He walketh upon the south winds,
causing propitious gales to blow upon the wilderness till songs of
joy awake in the solitary place, and the desert blossoms as the rose.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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