John Robinson, Eriswell, to Robert Robinson, Hauxton, 5 February 1770.

John Robinson writes, “I can’t forget the . . . intercourse which once subsisted between you and me although it has long been dormant . . .  I don’t charge my friend with forgetting.  I would not suppose him capable of that if my own memory did not fail me.  I wish he stands a letter in my door be that as it will, I’ll venture to tell him I’ve often wished to hear from him since his last, which favored me . . .” The writer bemoans his present spiritual state: “I fear the best that may be said of my past experiences is that my life has been a blank, & as to my present state I can only say I’m changed myself, daily changed myself with a remissness in things . . . every morning chides my ingratitude & the sun seldom shines upon my soul.  I’m a cloud of gloomy uncertainty & the evening fails to close my eyes in restful peace.”  He says he is in such a state of “weakness” that he does not have the power to “lay hold of his strength which alone can uphold me” because his spiritual hands are so “withered.” He pleads to Robinson: “Help me Oh! my friend help me . . . to implore a return of those gracious times of refreshing with which he has been pleased to comfort me in times that are past.  Then should my fettered soul be set at liberty.” He hopes to once again find “delight” and “confide in the mercies of the Lamb.” In closing he writes, “I can only add that we should be glad to see you here . . .  Mother &c  joins me in best respects to yourself and family . . .  I’ve heard y.t sev.l at Bury are say:g how glad they shod be to see y:u there—”

Text: Crabb Robinson Correspondence, Vol. 1 (725-99), no. 21, Dr. Williams's Library.