This sermon produced a profound impression. We have said, to render the sermons of Christmas Evans in print, or by description, is impossible,—as impossible as to paint tones, and accents, or the varying expressions which pass over eye, and face, and lip. He was entreated to publish this sermon, but he could only write out something like an outline of it, and when it appeared in print, those who had been enraptured with it, in its delivery, declared that it was not the same sermon; so he was entreated to preach the sermon again. He made a humorous remark, on the strangeness of a man preaching his own printed sermon; still, he complied. His accomplished biographer, Rhys Stephen, heard it then, and says of it, “While I have the faintest trace of memory, as to sermons I have heard, this must always be pre-eminent, and distinct; in its oratorical eminence, it stands alone, even among his great achievements. One of the most striking parts of the sermon, was in the examination of the Roman guard, the report of the soldiers to the authorities.” Mr. Stephens continues, “We heard them talk, had a clear perception of the difference of the tone, and more especially, when one of the chief priests, in an anxious, agonizing whisper, said, ‘_Shut the door_!’ And then, ‘You, tall soldier, approach: was it not you who pierced His side?’ ‘Yes, it was I.’ When Christmas Evans simulated the chief priest, and singled out the tall soldier, and the conversation went on between the two, such a combined triumph of sanctified fancy, and perfect oratory, I never expect to witness again.” We may, also, say, that it illustrates wherein, very greatly, lay the preacher’s power,—seizing some little circumstance, and, by its homeliness, or aptness, giving reality, and vivacity to the whole picture.
It must be said, his are very great sermons; the present writer is almost disposed to be bold enough to describe them, as the grandest Gospel sermons of the last hundred years. Not one, or two, but several, are especially noble. One of these we have, already, given: the splendid embodiment, and personification of the twenty-second Psalm, _The Hind of the Morning_, from the singular, and most significant designation, or title of the Psalm itself.