On October 28 he attended a revival meeting conducted by the Rev. Joseph Jenkins and assisted by many from New Quay. It was full of religious enthusiasm, and he found himself in his element. Thinking that Jesus was not sufficiently glorified, he prayed in such a manner as no one in the audience had heard before. The fervour created was intense. And, though the meeting began at six, it was not till eleven that they could close, and it was not till 3 a.m. that he and Sydney Evans could get to bed. Even then they did not sleep, and Evan Roberts began to weep bitterly and sigh deeply in thinking of Christ’s humiliation and the greatness of His love. He said next morning that he did not sleep all night, and the divine outpouring had been so heavy he had to shut it out and beg God to withhold His hand.

Events were now moving to a crisis. A decision to go home to Loughor and work among the young people there was come to during the evening service on Sunday, October 30, at Newcastle-Emlyn. It was made under the impelling influence of the Holy Spirit. In the morning service, at an afternoon meeting, and at tea he had felt himself under some wonderful influence, and his prayers and manner had been so strange that his friends were burdened with care for his mental condition. At the evening service he seemed to them to be unconscious of all that was going on and to be absorbed in communion with God. He himself in a letter written the next morning, says that the Spirit brought the care of the young people (at Loughor) before him so powerfully that it was impossible for him to keep his mind from them. “I had to pray three times for quietness. From that time until the end of the service the place was filled with the Divine Presence and at times I would lose the minister, seeing only his form.” In another letter, also written the next day, he says there seemed to be a voice, as if it said, “You must go, you must go.” And he had a vision of a meeting of young people at Loughor. The spiritual impulse and the voice and the vision determined him, and that same night he told his friends that the next morning he was going home to Loughor. And what that decision must have meant we may realize when we recall that it was only a few months previously that he had given up his trade of blacksmith to qualify himself for the ministry. Now he was giving up his training at Newcastle-Enilyn to a start at once upon his spiritual mission, and to start it in that most difficult place of all—his own home— and in face of derision, scoffing, gross imputations, of doubts even among his friends of his sanity, and of I questions as to what need there was for him to go when there were already plenty of ministers. And he was to act single-handed. For even his great friend Sydney Evans was unable to go with him.

The next day, October 31, he reached Loughor. His family were surprised at this sudden return from his training, and his mother warned him that if he went through Wales preaching he would have no money left for College. His family were also disturbed by his strange ways—at one time laughing, at another bursting into tears. They, too, feared that his mind was deranged. And for that reason both his brother Dan and his sister refused to go with him to the service in the evening, though both they and his mother went to the meeting for young people which he had arranged to take place after the Service.

At the close of the usual service it was announced that there would be a meeting for young people immediately after. Sixteen adults and one little girl remained. The rest left the church; the doors were closed; and Evan Roberts began his first revival meeting. No longer was he timid, shy and nervous, as in former days. Divine boldness and courage characterized his actions: spiritual happiness was visible in his face. Anxiety about the future did not trouble him: the certainty of eternity was on his side. He told his little audience of his object in coming home, and he urged them to confess Christ. Unaccustomed to this strange, new way of carrying on a service they found it difficult to comply. But after two hours, and much prayer, he induced them all to stand up and confess their Saviour.

The next night, at Pisgah, the audience had greatly increased, and Roberts spoke earnestly on the importance of being filled with the Holy Spirit, obeying Him, removing all questionable things from one’s life and confessing Christ. Some of those who had confessed on the previous evening got up and testified to the happiness which had come to them. And this gave encouragement, so that six more confessed.

On November 2 he spoke powerfully at a meeting in Moriah on his four main points (1) confession before God of every sin in our past life; (2) removal of anything doubtful in our lives; (3) total surrender and obedience to the Spirit; (4) public confession of Christ. This was the plan, he said, which the Spirit had revealed to him. And he tells Sydney Evans that sixty-five had now stood up to confess Christ, and that some strange joy had come into their lives in consequence.

In a young people’s meeting next day things were by no means so spiritual. Unbelief, disobedience and prejudice for some time prevailed. He could not get the people to bend. He urged them still more solemnly, and at last ten confessed Christ. Then he prayed earnestly for another ten. And at last slowly, one after the other, another ten stood up. He was gradually making his way. And by now the people were overcoming their prejudices against his method.

On the evening of November 4 a new element appeared. People from other denominations came to his meeting. Roberts spoke at some length and then left the meeting free for anyone to take part in. Singing, praying, confessing, giving testimony took place; and before the meeting closed all were convinced that a certain silent, invisible power was at work among them. On the following evening, though the meeting was announced for young people, persons of all ages came, the spiritual tide was evidently rising and obstacles giving way before it. The meeting lasted till after midnight and was charged with suppressed fervour.

The meeting on Sunday, November 6, was, however, the one in which the gathering momentum was most obvious. It left its mark on the whole of Loughor and thrilled the neighbourhood with divine awe. Some irresistible power seemed to be taking hold of the people. Evan Roberts, writing the next day to Sydney Evans and speaking of it and the result of the first week’s work in Loughor, says: “I am almost too full. My heart is brimming over with joy. The results of last week’s work are almost incredible. Peace has been made between many.” His account of what happened may be given at some length as it presents most vividly the working of the Spirit:

“After the service had continued until twelve o’clock, I said I was not satisfied with it, and that we must get the blessing; even if it were necessary to stay there till daybreak. We would have to ‘strive with Heaven.’ ‘Now,’ said I, ‘we must believe that the Spirit will come; not think He will come, not hope He will come, but firmly believe it.’ Then I read the promises of God, and pointed out how definite they were. After this the Spirit said that everyone was to pray—pray, not confess, not sing, not give experiences, but pray and believe and wait. And this was the prayer, ‘Send the Spirit now, for Jesus Christ’s sake.’ The prayer began with me. Then it went from seat to seat—to boys and girls, young men and maidens. Some asking in silence, some aloud, some coldly, some warmly, some formally, some tearfully, some with difficulty, some with strong voices, some with tender. Oh! how wonderful! I never thought of such an effect. I felt the place being filled. But on went the prayer, the feeling becoming more and more intense and the place being filled more and more.

“I went to see a brother who had been weeping and sobbing, and who should it be but David Jones. ‘What is the matter?’ said I. ‘Oh.!’ he answered, ‘I have had something wonderful. My heart is too large for my bosom.’ ‘Then you have had the Holy Spirit,’ I told him. The prayer had then ended its journey but not its message. ‘Shall we ask for more?’ I asked. ‘No,’ said David Jones. He had had as much as he could hold. But there were others who had not had enough. I told them that brother Jones had had enough, but that we could go on and ask for more and that Jones could ask God to withhold if necessary.

“Then we added to the prayer, ‘Send the Spirit more powerfully for Jesus Christ’s sake.’ The prayer began its journey. And oh! with what effect! The Spirit was coming nearer and nearer all the while. It descended upon two sisters and they shouted aloud —shouted as I never heard anyone shout before. The people made a circle round them and looked amazed and terrified. But I smiled, saying, ‘Oh! there is no danger.’ And after a few minutes the sisters regained their composure. Then some young brother began to sing ‘May Thy blessing,’ and the meeting closed.”

His second week opened with fervour. The old Moriah chapel was filled to the door on Monday evening—a thing never known before in the history of its prayer meetings—and the audience was of all denominations. After a number had confessed, the place became terrible. Almost all were moved to tears, and many cried loudly and wept in agony. A new element was that a number began to pray for those who felt hard. People were convinced they heard some powerful noise, and they felt the place filled with the Divine Presence. One after another fell in agony because of his soul’s condition. The prayer for the coming of the Holy Spirit went round, and the whole audience gave way before some irresistible influence. The state of things was beyond any description. Many groaned in agony, others sighed deeply, some shouted aloud. And for the first time many prayed, sang, or spoke without being formally requested. About midnight the influence became intolerable for a time. The meeting was boiling with fervour, and it was not possible to close it till three in the morning.

After the boiling fervour of the Monday meeting it was natural that the Tuesday evening should open with a chill. But that night was memorable for the “conversion” of Evan Roberts’ mother. The meeting had lasted on far into the night without any influence coming, and some aged people, among them Mrs. Roberts, began to leave for home. Evan accompanied his mother to the door. “It is better for you to come back, Mother,” he said; “the Spirit is coming nearer now.” “But the people are sleeping,” she replied, “and it will soon be time for them to go to work.” With that she went home, while her son stayed with the remainder of the people, who were mostly young. He gathered these in the middle of the chapel, and there they wrestled with God till the place became awful owing to a sweeping divine influence. It was not till after six on the following morning that Evan and his brother Dan reached home and went to bed. A few hours later he was awakened by a voice calling, “Oh! I’m dying, I’m dying!” He leaped downstairs and found his mother with clasped hands and closed eyes in a perfect agony of soul. He swiftly saw what was disturbing her, and throwing one arm round her and swinging the other as if leading a tune, sang, “Praise be to Him.” She pleaded pitifully for light, and when she was relieved of her great distress, said that what had weighed on her mind after leaving the chapel was thinking of Christ standing in the garden in His agony and her not staying in the chapel till the end of the service.

Another, and perhaps difficult, convert in his family was his sister, Mary. On October 28, before he came home he had written to her, with more sincerity and earnestness than tact: “I would it were possible to give you the joy I have. It would move away your sarcasm and light up your face; and your heart would be at peace. It would be a treat for you to hear the young ladies from New Quay when they pray.” He then exhorts her to pray, but first to feel that she is a lost sinner. And he recommends that they should have a family altar and she should take a part. Less than a week later we find him writing to Sydney Evans that he had begun a family altar, that Mary reads and Dan prays and that Mary has begun to pray. And a few days later he is writing that while Mary used to go to bed before he came home, now bed for her is out of the question till he arrives lest she should lose these glorious things. And now he was receiving invitations to hold meetings outside his native place. In answer to a deputation from the Congregational chapel he went to Brynteg on Wednesday, November 9. Here the melting power of the singing was noticeable, and a minister said he had never seen anything more like a transfiguration than the look of some persons who came under the divine influence. Next night another meeting was to be held in the same place, but the old chapel proved too small, and they had to go to the new one, which was soon packed to every corner. And as this was the first meeting reported in the Press —and by a very sympathetic reporter, “Austin”—the published account may be here transcribed:

“The proceedings commenced at seven o’clock and lasted without a break until 4.30 a.m. Friday morning. During the whole of this time the congregation were under the influence of deep religious fervour and exaltation. There were about four hundred people present, of whom the majority were females ranging from young misses of twelve to matrons with babes in their arms. Mr. Roberts is a young man of rather striking appearance—tall and distinguished-looking, with an intellectual air about his clean-shaven face. His eyes are piercing in their brightness, and the pallor of his countenance suggests that these nightly vigils are telling on him.

“There was, however, no suggestion of fatigue in the conduct of the meeting. There is nothing theatrical about his preaching. He does not seek to terrify his hearers, and eternal torment has no place in his theology. Rather does he reason with the people and show them by persuasion a more excellent way. I had not been many minutes in the building before I felt this was no ordinary gathering. Instead of the set order of proceedings everything here was left to the spontaneous impulse of the moment. Nor did the preacher remain in his usual seat. For the most part he walked up and down the aisles, open Bible in hand, exhorting one, encouraging another, and kneeling with a third to implore a blessing from the Throne of Grace.

“A young woman rose to give out a hymn and it was sung with deep earnestness. While it was being sung several people dropped down as if they had been struck, and commenced crying for pardon. From another part could be heard the resonant voice of a young man reading a portion of Scripture. While from the gallery came an impassioned prayer from a woman crying aloud that she had repented of her ways and was determined to lead a better life henceforth.

“All this time Mr. Roberts went in and out among the congregation offering kindly words of advice to kneeling penitents and asking them if they believed. In one instance the reply was: ‘No, I would like to believe, but I can’t. Pray for me.’ Then the preacher would ask the audience to join him in the following prayer, ‘Send the Holy Spirit now, for Jesus Christ’s sake.’ This prayer would be repeated about a dozen times by all present, when the would-be convert would suddenly rise and declare with triumph, ‘Thank God, I have now received salvation.’ This declaration would create a new excitement, and the congregation would joyously sing,

‘Diolch iddo, diolch iddo.’

I suppose this occurred scores of times during the nine hours over which the meeting was protracted.

“A pathetic feature of the proceedings was the anxiety of many present for the spiritual welfare of members of their families. One woman was heartbroken for her husband who was given to drink. She implored the prayers of the congregation on his behalf. The story told by another woman drew tears to all eyes. She said that her mother was dead, and that her father had given way to sin, so that she was orphaned in the world. She had attended the meetings and on the previous day, while following her domestic duties, the Spirit had come upon her, bidding her to speak. And she did speak!—remarkably, for one who had never spoken before in public. Yet another woman made public confession that she had come to the meeting in a spirit of idle curiosity, but that the influence of the Holy Ghost worked within her, causing her to go down on her knees in penitence. At 2.30 a.m. I took a rough note of what was then proceeding. In the gallery a woman was praying and she fainted. Water was offered her, but she refused to drink this, saying the only thing she wanted was God’s forgiveness . . . . A well-known resident then rose and said that salvation had come to him . . . . . . Immediately following, a thanksgiving hymn was sung, while an English prayer from a new convert broke in upon the singing. The whole congregation then fell upon their knees, prayers ascending from every part of the edifice, while Mr. Roberts gave way to tears at the sight. . . . This state of fervency lasted for about ten minutes and was followed by an even more impressive five minutes of silence broken only by the sobs of strong men . . . . . A hymn was then started by a woman with a beautiful soprano voice. Finally, Mr. Roberts announced the holding of future meetings, and at 4.25 am. the gathering dispersed.

“But even at this hour the people did not make their way home. Dozens of them were about on the road discussing what is now the chief subject of their lives.

“In the course of conversation with Mr. Roberts, he said it was time to get out of the groove in which we had walked for so long. He had been praying for the Holy Ghost to come down upon him. That it had come he was certain. It was one thing for a man to be converted and quite another to receive the baptism of the Spirit. The meetings they had had were glorious experiences. . . . As for himself, he was simply an instrument in the hand of God, and he wanted men to receive the joy of religion.”

This is what a newspaper correspondent reported. Evan Roberts himself, writing the next day of this same meeting to a friend, said:

“I do not know how to begin writing in the midst of this divine fire. The whole place has been moved, and my heart burns within with the Holy Spirit. . . . .What a service last night! The girls and the women shouting aloud, having forgotten themselves. Over thirty were baptized by the Holy Spirit. . . . The fire is spreading rapidly and effectually. One of our deacons at Moriah has been baptized by the Spirit . . . . . coming on and embracing and kissing me, clapping his hands, and praising God that he had found a Saviour. . . . But what prejudice there is against the movement. Well, I have to say strange things: I have to open my mouth and speak out. And, thank Heaven, those things are very effectual. The Spirit convicts powerfully.”

This was the result of less than a fortnight’s work. Writing deliberately some years later the Rev. Vyrwy Morgan says of Evan Roberts that his mind was shallow and bound by conventional conceptions; that he was not intellectual and was moved more by emotion rather than by his ideas, and had no traces of culture, no fundamental doctrine, no system of theology, no distinctive ideal; that he was no expositor or even fluent speaker; that his broken sentences were without depth or moral force; that there was nothing of a colossal nature about him, and that his dimensions were small and his horizon exceedingly circumscribed. So says a Welsh minister. Yet in that short time this young ex-miner and blacksmith had of his own initiative and in that most difficult place of all, his own native township, set going a movement which was already stirring the whole neighbourhood and attracting the provincial Press, and which was eventually to draw men to him from England, France and many other countries. In spite of his being considered—even among his friends and his family—as deranged; in spite of his being derided and scoffed at; he was able to do in a fortnight what many an official minister, would have been glad to have accomplished in a lifetime.

Wherein, then, lay the man’s charm and power that he was able to achieve so much, with so meagre an equipment, and in the face of so many obstacles? The answer is given by the reporter of these first meetings. He had an indefinable something in his manner and style. His joyous smile was that of a man in whom was no guile. And he convinced people that his belief in what he preached was impregnable. The ring of reality was in all he said. That was the secret. In those months of nightly communion with God preceding his mission there had come to him absolute certitude of the joy which may be had in this heavenly living. He had become possessed of the Spirit of God. Obedient to the heavenly impulse he had come to his homeland and spoken with the authentic voice of that Spirit. And men recognized the accent. It was the accent of a responsible agent of God. It proclaimed a living message. It brought glad tidings of great joy for all who would purify their hearts and open them, as he had, to the inflow of the same Holy Spirit. His coming had aroused dormant faculties men had not known they possessed, and had changed and enriched their whole lives. And as the glad news spread no wonder crowds flocked to hear him, and demands from everywhere came for him to appear among them.

Later, under the pressure of these demands, he was grossly to overdo himself and to break down under the stress, to lose his charming gentleness and the power to draw and sway; and he was to develop austerity of manner and peremptoriness of address, and eventually to break down altogether. But for our present study his life up to this point is an outstanding example both of the working of the Holy Spirit upon an individual and also of how that individual can by his personality and by the power which has come into him communicate to others something of the overabounding joy which he himself has experienced and can arouse in them a passionate longing to fit and purify themselves for a like inpouring of the Spirit.