Saturday.
Robin better, though still very weak. Had his Bed made, and took a few Spoonfuls of Broth.
Sunday.
A very different Sabbath from the last. Though Robin's Constitution hath received a Shock it may never recover, his comparative Amendment fills us with Thankfulnesse; and our chastened Suspense hath a sweet Solemnitie and Trustfullenesse in it, which pass Understanding.
Mr. Agnew conducted our Devotions. This Morning, I found him praying with Robin—I question if it were for the first Time. Robin looking on him with eyes of such sedate Affection!
Thursday.
Robin still progressing. Dear Rose and Mr. Agnew leave us to-morrow, but they will soon come agayn. Oh faithful Friends!
* * * * * *
April, 1646.
Can Aniething equall the desperate Ingratitude of the human Heart?
Testifie of it, Journall, agaynst me. Here did I, throughout the
incessant Cares and Anxieties of Robin's Sicknesse, find, or make
Time, for almoste dailie Record of my Trouble; since which, whole
Months have passed without soe much as a scrawled Ejaculation of
Thankfullenesse that the Sick hath beene made whole.