Mr. Jones, the Rector of Nevern, one of the most eminent of the Welsh bards, says, “For one to throw his arms about, is not action; to make this, or that gesture, is not action. Action is seen in the eye, in the curling of the lip, in the frowning of the nose—in every muscle of the speaker.” Mentioning these remarks to Dr. Pugh, when speaking of Elias, he said he “never saw an orator that could be compared to him. Every muscle was in action, and every movement that he made was not only graceful, but it spoke. As an orator,” said Dr. Pugh, “I considered him fully equal to Demosthenes!”
It was tremendous preaching. It met the state of society—the needs of the times. What is there in a sermon?—what is there in preaching? some have flippantly inquired. We have seen that the preaching of Elias effected social revolutions; it destroyed bad customs, and improved manners. He lived in this work; it consumed him. Those who knew him, applied to him the words of Scripture: “The zeal of Thine house hath eaten me up.” In estimating him, and his work, it ought never to be forgotten, that, as has always been the case with such men, he lived in a life of wondrous prayerfulness, and spiritual elevation. He was called to preach a great Association sermon at Pwlheli. In the whole neighbourhood the state of religion was very low, and distressingly discouraging to pious minds; and it had been so for many years. Elias felt that his visit must be an occasion with him. It may almost be said of that day, that “Elias prayed, and the heavens gave rain.” He went. He took his text, “Let God arise, and let His enemies be scattered!” It was an astonishing time. While the preacher drove along with his tremendous power, multitudes of the people fell to the ground. Calm stood the man, his words rushing from him like flames of fire. There were added to the Churches of that immediate neighbourhood, Mr. Elias’s clerical biographer tells us, in consequence of the powerful impetus of that sermon, two thousand five hundred members.
The good man lived in an atmosphere of prayer. The stories which gather about such men, sometimes seem to partake of the nature of exaggerations; but, on the other hand, it ought to be recollected that all anecdotes and popular impressions arise from some well-known characteristic to which they are the correspondents. There was a poor woman, a neighbour’s wife. She was very ill, and her case pressed very much upon the mind of Elias in family prayer. But one morning he said to his wife, “I have somehow missed Elizabeth in my prayer this morning; I think she cannot be alive.” The words had scarcely passed from his lips when the husband was at the door, to tell him of his wife’s departure.