Letters to His Friends

by Forbes Robinson

I feel more and more the necessity of being alone occasionally for some time—to get time enough to pray. I think my supreme desire is to be a man of prayer. You must help me to accomplish the desire: 'Gutta cavat lapidem non vi, sed saepe cadendo.'

So it is with prayer. As the stone gets worn away, not by the force of the drop of water but by its constant trickling, so prayer often renewed must at length attain its end. It is a wonderful privilege to be able to state all one's wishes and hopes for others in prayer—to know that there can be there no possibility of misunderstanding—to tell to God the incomprehensible depth of one's love, and to feel that He knows what it means, because He Himself is love. It is glorious to be made in His image, and to be sure that all one's highest yearnings are a reflection—however broken, partial, and unsightly—of His own marvellous life. We have indeed cause to be grateful for our 'creation.' I often look at the poor dumb creatures, and thank God that He has given me such full powers of love, which they cannot understand: for I would rather have the pains of love than any other pleasure.

To F. S. H., a chaplain in the Navy.

Cambridge: November 4, 1900.

I ought to have written before this. The fact that I did not answer at once is partly accounted for by my having a good deal of work to do, and partly by physical weakness. I have not been very well this term. It is cruel of you to suspect me of having forgotten all about you. I am not that sort. I owe too much to you in the past ever to forget you. I don't think that you really suspected me of inconstancy. I am so sorry that you are sometimes lonely and very miserable. I feel at times weak, physically weak. I think that at such times one can lean back, as it were, on the Divine arms. He understands our weakness and weariness. He knows what loneliness and sadness mean. And He is not extreme to mark what we do amiss. He knows that we are but flesh. And He 'dwells not in the light alone, but in the darkness and the light.' Even when the darkness hides Him and we cannot find where He is, we can, as it were, reach out our hands to Him, and we are safe. God has much to teach us while we are teaching others. And life is not exactly the same as we thought at the beginning. He teaches us by unexpected experiences. But the comfort is that He never changes; we may be weary, but He never slumbers nor sleeps. Sometimes we feel very fit and capable. Then is the time to pray and to rise to the heights. Later, when we are incapable, although it is hard to rise, we need not fall. When the mist clears we can go on again, and it may be that we shall find that even in the mist we had gone further than we thought. The deep snow and the long dark rainy days are necessary for the perfecting of the fruit, as well as the sunshine. And we do need sunshine. I feel more and more grateful and thankful to God for His goodness. He has been so good to me, and I don't deserve it. And I think that if you look back and look forward you will feel more and more His marvellous sympathy and affection. I am glad you have been reading Robertson's Life. Though he may have been almost morbid at times, he was a great man and did a great work.… You will find later that your work has been far more effective than you expected. Don't try to rush it. You can't help men much until you know them very well; and when you know them you find how utterly different they are from what you had expected them to be. At least I do. No two men are alike. Each man that you come really to know is utterly different from any man you have ever met or will meet.

To F. J. C.

Christ's College, Cambridge: November 5, 1900.

It is good of you to think of me and above all to pray for me. I need your prayers—and most of all when I am run down and unable to pray myself. I can see the mountain top at times: then the mist comes down, and I cannot see the way; I try to keep where I am, though I may not be able to advance; and when the mist clears I go on again. Possibly, sometimes, we may be going forward even in the mist, although we seem to be making no progress, or going backward.

God judges by a light
Which baffles mortal sight.

I often wish I had more physical strength and was able to do what other men can do; but I can't. And I have no doubt that all is well—that I am made to do one particular piece of work, and that I have strength enough for that—and thank God for that.