John Elias

Rev. John Elias was a pastor in North Wales in the early 19th century. He was a lively preacher, as is evidenced by a remarkable sermon he preached in 1824 against drunkeness. Efion Evans describes the sermon as follows:

"Are there any drunkards here?" he cried. "I am afraid there are. I beg of you, will you -- at least today -- control yourselves. If you have no respect for the Almighty, no respect for the laws of your land, no respect for yourselves, will you please -- for our sakes today -- behave soberly and decently. You are, by attending our meetings ande by your drinking and disorderly conduct, undermining our character . . . We have nothing but our character on which to fall back. We are not rich, we are not learned, we are not gifted, we have no high titles . . . But we have our character; we have a very high opinion of our character; we are unwilling to allow anybody to destroy our character. But the drunkards who are attending our Associations are undermining our character. What can we do with them, my brethren?"

Someone made a remark, referring to a sermon that had been preached that day. "I feel within myself this minute", he cried, "to offerthem for sale, by auction, to whomsoever will take them, that they might not disturb us any more." Then, at the top of his voice, with his arm outstretched, as if he held them in the palm of his hand, he shouted, "Who will take them? Who will take them?"

"Churchmen, will you take them?" "We? We, in our baptism have professed to renounce the devil and all his works. No; we cannot take them."

Then, after a moment's silence, "Independents, will you take them?" "What? We? We, ages ago, left the Church of England because of her corruption. No; we will not take them."

Another interval of silence. "Baptists, will you take them?" "We? Certainly not! We dip all our people in water as a sign that we take those who have been cleansed. No; we will not take them."

Silence again. "Wesleyans, will you take them?" "What? We? Good works is a matter of life with us. We do not want them."

Then he stretched forth his arm once again, as if holding the poor drunkards in his hand; and once again, at the top of his voice he shouted, "Who will take them? Who will take them? Who will take them?" Then, suddenly, his whole nature became agitated. His eyes flashed as he turned his head aside, and in a low tone which could be heard by all, he said, "Methinks I can hear the devil at my elbow saying, 'Knock them down to me! I will take them.'"

Then, after thirty seconds of dead silence, he cried, "I was going to say, Satan, that you could have them, but" -- looking upwards he said in a loud, clear, yet gentle voice, "I can hear Jesus saying, 'I will take them! I will take them! Unclean, to be washed; drunkards, to be sobered; in all their filth and degradation, I will take them, and cleanse them in mine own blood."

According to Peter Jefferey, the "effects of all this can be better imagined than described. The ministers, preachers and elders were stunned; and the huge congregation was stirred with a spirit of tumultuous joy and exulatation."