Робінзон Крузо
Ill and Conscience–Stricken
NowIbegantoconstruethewordsmentionedabove, "CallonMe,andIwilldeliveryou,"inadifferentsensefromwhatIhadeverdonebefore; forthenIhadnonotionofanythingbeingcalleddeliverancebutmybeingdeliveredfromthecaptivityIwasin; forthoughIwasindeedatlargeintheplace,yettheislandwascertainlyaprisontome,andthatintheworstsenseintheworld. ButnowIlearnedtotakeitinanothersense; nowIlookedbackuponmypastlifewithsuchhorror,andmysinsappearedsodreadful,thatmysoulsoughtnothingofGodbutdeliverancefromtheloadofguiltthatboredownallmycomfort. Asformysolitarylife,itwasnothing; Ididnotsomuchaspraytobedeliveredfromit,orthinkofit; itwasallofnoconsideration,incomparisontothis. AndIaddthisparthere,tohinttowhoevershallreadit,thatwhenevertheycometoatruesenseofthings,theywillfinddeliverancefromasinamuchgreaterblessingthandeliverancefromaffliction.
Butleavingthispart,Ireturntomyjournal.
Myconditionbegannowtobe,thoughnotlessmiserableastomywayofliving,yetmucheasiertomymind; andmythoughtsbeingdirected,byaconstantreadingtheScripture,andprayingtoGod,tothingsofahighernature,Ihadagreatdealofcomfortwithin,which,tillnow,Iknewnothingof. Also,asmyhealthandstrengthreturned,IbestirredmyselftofurnishmyselfwitheverythingthatIwanted,andmakemywayoflivingasregularasIcould.
Fromthe4thofJulytothe14thIwaschieflyemployedinwalkingaboutwithmyguninmyhand,alittleandalittleatatime,asamanthatwasgatheringuphisstrengthafterafitofsickness; foritishardlytobeimaginedhowlowIwas,andtowhatweaknessIwasreduced.
