In the evening the missioner was at Libanus Chapel, and the fervour which had marked the afternoon services was fully sustained. The building was crowded to its utmost capacity long before the hour announced for opening. Hymn-singing and prayer—all in Welsh—were kept up, with an occasional short address’ without interruption until the arrival of Mr Evan Roberts at half-past seven. In the course of one of the addresses a speaker recited some striking Welsh stanzas, the closing lines of one of them being:— “Gwerthai yr angel el delyn, Yn mhalas Duw am lais dyn.” Two well-known local characters, who took a very prominent part in the meetings, were especially emphatic and earnest in their prayers for Anglesey and for their former comrades in Clydach Vale. One of them, while praying for a family in which the parents drank beer instead of buying food for the children, said: “I have been here two years and a half. WelI,” he said, “I think so. I have no desire to tell a lie,” and having in this quaint manner led up to it, he “stated the case to his Father in Heaven, and asked forgiveness, not only for the people referred to but also for himself for having ever “stood a pint” to help people towards destruction. Subsequently, Mr Roberts took up this point, and declared that “paying for a pint” meant “raising a ticket for a person to go to destruction.” What did members of Christian Churches who did this think of themselves? It was certain that there were only too many members of Christian Churches who were neither hot nor cold, They certainly did not come up to the requirements. Then, proceeding, Mr Evan Roberts spoke of the loneliness of Christ when He asked the Father why he had left him. The references to the scenes in the Garden of Gethsemane again brought the missioner himself into a state of deep emotion. Miss Annie Davies, Maesteg, struck up very tenderly, “Wrth gofio’i ruddfaunau’n yr ardd,” and when Mr Roberts had somewhat recovered his composure he went on to refer to the lonely Saviour in the garden. “The disciples were sleeping,” he said, “and they are sleeping now—hundreds and thousands of them “—a point which elicited an immense volume of “Amen,” and while this pathetic picture was being drawn Mrs Howell, Clydach Vale, sang, “O na bawn i fel Efe,” and no sooner had the last note died away than Miss Lewis, quite a little girl, struck up another sweetly pathetic hymn which deeply stirred the congregation, with the natural consequence that the audience burst forth into the strains of “Dyma gariad fel y moroedd.” Then, while the tide of music and fervour was in full flood, a young woman stood up in the midst of the congregation and prayed In English, and when the music ceased there was heard the voice of a little boy (who has only just started working underground) praying (with his head leaning on his arms on the front of the gallery) for “showers of blessing” and the descent of the Pentecostal fire upon the meeting.” An Englishman standing in the aisle promptly followed with a fervent petition to God to spread the revival throughout the land. “O anfon Di yr Ysbryd Glan,” sang the congregation, and another Englishman prayed God “to melt or smash hard hearts in that meeting.” “Come to Jesus, come to Jesus, just now,” sang Mr Tom James, the Clydach Vale miners’ agent, and the people joined in subsequent lines and verses in Welsh and English. “Mae E’n maddeu, Mae E’n maddeu, ‘Rawr hon,” sang one; “Mae E’n eiriol,” struck up another; “I believe it just now,” cried another. “Mae E’n derbyn, ‘rawr hon,” said another; and so the singing went on, while one of the converts already alluded to shouted at the top of his voice, now exhorting, now warning, and then praying, “Llanw’r lle yma a Dy Gariad,” but he ceased when the singing ceased, and the Rev. W. E. Davies (pastor of Calfaria Baptist Church, Clydach Vale) explained that the man standing in the “big pew” was, like, those upon whom the Pentecostal fire had descended, filled, not with wine, but, with the Holy Ghost. A month ago that man could not be prevailed upon to say anything publicly, but a change had come over him, which had transformed a timid, retiring member of Calfaria Church Into what they now saw and heard. Of the genuineness of the transformation there could not be the slightest doubt. This declaration led the congregation to sing with almost unbounded enthusiasm “Diolch Iddo” and “Pen Calfaria.”
From, 'The Western Mail,' 19th December 1904.