Sermons of Christmas Evans — Context and Discussion

Allegory and Typology as Structural Devices

Evans repeatedly builds sermons around extended allegories drawn from Old Testament passages. In Sermon X, “The Cedar of God,” he takes Ezekiel 17:22–24 as a text and elaborates the image of the cedar, the eagle, and the planting of a tender branch. He describes Nebuchadnezzar as “the great eagle—the long-winged, full-feathered, embroidered eagle” who carries off the highest branch of the cedar. Then God in turn takes a branch and plants it on the high mountain of Israel. Evans explicitly calls this “the beautiful language of allegory” and notes that the context portrays the captivity of Israel and the promise of restoration. He insists that the promise is evangelical, relating to “the coming and kingdom of Messiah,” and cites Boothroyd to argue that no post-exilic king fits the description. This method—reading a prophetic passage as a direct type of Christ—is consistent across the excerpts, where Evans treats biblical figures and events as layered symbols rather than mere historical reports.

Contrasts Between Divine and Human Power

A persistent pattern in the sermons is the juxtaposition of God's eternal, living nature with the mortality and weakness of human rulers and sinners. In the excerpt from an unnamed sermon, Evans declares: “Pharaoh is dead, Herod is dead, Nero is dead; but Jehovah is ‘the living God,’ and it is a fearful thing to have him for an enemy.” He then lists divine judgments—the flood, Sodom and Gomorrah, the drowning of Pharaoh—as evidence of God's hatred of sin. The same contrast appears in his treatment of idols: “The gods of the heathen have no life in them, and they who worship them are like unto them.” But for believers united to Christ by faith, Evans promises that “the power which raised him from the dead shall also quicken your mortal body.” This binary structure—dead human powers versus the living God—shapes his exhortations and gives his preaching an urgent, either-or quality.

Direct Address and Revivalist Urgency

Evans frequently breaks into direct, second-person address to the sinner, a hallmark of revivalist preaching. In one passage he warns: “I tell thee, sinner, except thou repent, thou shalt likewise perish!” He then enumerates the punishments awaiting the impenitent: “the loss of all good—the endurance of all evil—the undying worm—the unquenchable fire—the blackness of darkness for ever.” The language is stark and visceral, designed to provoke immediate response. Yet the sermons also include prayers and hymns, such as the closing lines of one sermon that quote “There is a fountain filled with blood.” This combination of threat and gospel invitation, of warning and comfort, reflects the Calvinist evangelical tradition in which Evans operated. The translator's memoir notes that Evans experienced a period of backsliding and recovery, and that his preaching was marked by “powerful sermons” and seasons of revival, which contextualizes the urgent tone.

Readers approaching this collection should note the dual nature of the text: the memoir offers a biographical frame, while the sermons themselves demand attention to Evans's exegetical method. His allegorical readings may feel unfamiliar to modern audiences, but they reward careful consideration of how he weaves Old Testament imagery into a Christ-centered gospel. The translator's frank admission of stylistic unevenness and doctrinal particularity invites a critical reading that distinguishes between Evans's core message and the cultural or theological assumptions of his era. For those interested in nineteenth-century Welsh preaching, Calvinist theology, or the intersection of allegory and revivalism, this volume provides primary material of considerable interest.

I remember evenings in my father’s study, where the weight of such sermons felt like a hand on my shoulder. The old Welsh preacher’s trembling before divine glory reminded me of another quiet morning with this Substance of a Sermon on the Bible Society preached at Beccles, October 29th, and at St. Mary's Church Bungay, on Friday, Dec. 1st, 1815 — Inside the Classic, where a similar awe softened into plain, hopeful words.