What was it that led both Daniel Defoe and Sir Walter Scott to give the
text such prominence? What was it in the text that appealed so
irresistibly to Robinson Crusoe and to Mary Avenel? The answer is
fourfold.
1. It was the _Charm of Companionship_. Robinson Crusoe fancied that he
was alone upon his island. Mary Avenel fancied that she was left
friendless and forsaken. They were both mistaken; and it was the text
that showed them their mistake. '_Call upon Me in the day of trouble,
and I will deliver thee._' If such a Deliverer is at hand--so near as to
be within sound of their voices--how can Robinson Crusoe be solitary or
Mary Avenel forsaken?
Speak to Him, thou, for He hears; spirit with spirit can meet--
Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet!
If there be a shadow of truth in Robinson Crusoe's text, there is no
such thing as loneliness for any of us!
2. It was the _Ring of Certainty_. There is a strange and holy dogmatism
about the great evangelical promises. '_Call and I will deliver._' Other
physicians say: 'I will come and do my best.' The Great Physician says:
'I will come and heal him.' _The Son of Man is come to seek and to save
that which is lost._ He did not embark upon a magnificent effort; He
came to do it.
3. It was the _Claim of Monopoly_. 'Call upon _Me_ in the day of
trouble, and _I_ will deliver thee.' It suggests the utter absence of
alternatives, of selection, of picking and choosing. In the straits of
the soul, the issues are wonderfully simple. There is none other Name
given under heaven among men whereby we must be saved. It is _this_
Companion--or solitude; _this_ Deliverer--or captivity; _this_
Saviour--or none.
4. It was the _Absence of Technicality_. '_Call!_'--that is all. '_Call
upon Me in the day of trouble, and I will deliver thee, and thou shalt
glorify Me!_' _Call!_--as a little child calls for his mother.
_Call!_--as a drowning man calls for help. _Call!_--as a frenzied woman
calls wildly for succor. There are great emergencies in which we do not
fastidiously choose our words. It is not the mind but the heart that, at
such moments, gives to the tongue its noblest eloquence. The prayer that
moves Omnipotence to pity, and summons all the hosts of heaven to help,
is not the prayer of nicely rounded periods--Faultily faultless, icily
regular, splendidly null--but the prayer of passionate entreaty. It is a
_call_--a call such as a doctor receives at dead of night; a call such
as the fireman receives when all the alarms are clanging; a call such as
the ships receive in mid-ocean, when, hurtling through the darkness and
the void, there comes the wireless message, 'S.O.S.' '_Call upon Me in
the day of trouble, and I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify
Me._' Had the text demanded a tinge of technicality it would have been
useless to Robinson Crusoe; it would have mocked the simple soul of poor
Mary Avenel. But a call! Robinson Crusoe can call! Mary Avenel can call!
Anybody can call! Wherefore, '_call_,' says the text, '_just call, and
He will deliver_!'