mylordmyfriend posted: " Robert Robinson was an English clergyman who lived in the 18th century. Not only was he a gifted pastor and preacher, he was also a highly gifted poet and hymn writer. However, after many years in the pastorate, his faith began to drift. He left the "
Robert Robinson was an English clergyman who lived in the 18th century. Not only was he a gifted pastor and preacher, he was also a highly gifted poet and hymn writer. However, after many years in the pastorate, his faith began to drift. He left the ministry and finished up in France, indulging himself in sin.One night, he was riding in a carriage with a Parisian socialite who had recently been converted to Christ.
She was interested in his opinion on some poetry she was reading: Come thou Fount of every blessing, Tune my heart to sing thy grace, Streams of mercy never failing, Call for hymns of loudest praise.When she looked up from her reading, the socialite noticed Robinson was crying.
"What do I think of it?" he asked in a broken voice. "I wrote it. But now I've drifted away from Him and can't find my way back.""But don't you see?" the woman said gently, "The way back is written right here in the third line of your poem: Streams of mercy never ceasing.
Those streams are flowing even here in Paris tonight."That night, Robinson wept sorely for his backsliding and recommitted his life to Christ.
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