Lessons of the dew.
Palestine is a land of dews. It is very dependent on them. Destitute of rains for many months at a time, it relies for securing crops on the heavy fall of dew which is secured nightly by its multitude of mountains. Hermon is no more conspicuous in the sight than in the peculiar abundance of its dews. They become rain for the thirsty land. Mr. Porter says that one of its hills is appropriately called "Father of the Dew," for the clouds seem to cling with peculiar fondness round its wooded top. Dr. Tristram says, "We had sensible proof at Rasheiya of the copiousness of the 'dew of Hermon,' spoken of in this psalm, where 'Zion' is only another name for the same mountain. Unlike most other mountains which gradually rise from lofty table-lands, and often at a distance from the sea, Hermon starts at once to the height of nearly ten thousand feet, from a platform scarcely above the sea-level. This platform, toe—the upper Jordan valley, and marshes of Merom—is for the most part an impenetrable swamp of unknown depth, whence the seething vapor, under the rays of an almost tropical sun, is constantly ascending into the upper atmosphere during the day. The vapor, coming in contact with the snowy sides of the mountain, is rapidly congealed, and is precipitated in the evening in the form of dew, the most copious we ever experienced. It penetrated everywhere, and soaked everything. The floor of our tent was saturated, our bedding was covered with it, our guns were dripping, and dewdrops hung about everywhere. No wonder that the foot of Hermon is clad with orchards and gardens of such marvelous fertility in this land of droughts." Dr. Geikie gives quite a fresh explanation of the ordinary dew of the country. "There is no dew, properly so called, in Palestine, for there is no moisture in the hot summer air to be chilled into dew-drops by the coolness of the night, as in a climate like ours. From May to October rain is unknown, the sun shining with unclouded brightness day after day. The heat becomes intense, the ground hard, and vegetation would perish but for the moist west winds that come each night from the sea. The bright skies cause the heat to radiate very quickly into space, so that the nights are as cold as the day is the reverse. To this coldness of the night air the indispensable watering of all plant-life is due. The winds, loaded with moisture, are robbed of it as they pass over the land, the cold air condensing it into drops of water, which fall in a gracious rain of mist on every thirsty blade. In the morning the fog thus created rests like a sea over the plains, and far up the sides of the hills, which raise their heads above it like so many islands. At sunrise, however, the scene speedily changes. By the kindling light the mist is transformed into vast snow-white clouds, which presently break into separate masses and rise up the mountain-sides, to disappear in the blue above, dissipated by the increasing heat." Dew seemed to the Israelites a mysterious gift of heaven, as indeed it is. (For Bible associations of the dew, see 2 Samuel 1:21; 2 Samuel 17:12; 1 Kings 17:1; Job 29:19; Job 38:28; Psalms 110:3; Proverbs 19:12; So Proverbs 5:2; Hosea 6:4; Haggai 1:10 (Gideon's dew on the fleece is familiar, 6:36-40; Isaiah 18:4; Isaiah 26:19, etc.) God's blessing is like the dew in these particulars—
I. IN ITS MYSTERIOUSNESS. The dew differs from the rain in this, that we feel as if we understood the rain, but we never seem to understand the dew. We can see the clouds that distil in rain; we cannot see the moisture of the atmosphere which distils in dew. It is God working in secret for our good. Then, too, it is not always what it seems. It seems to be a cold night mist, that chills us, and we think must chili everything. It is (God's blessing always is, whatever form it takes) the very thing that vegetation most pressingly needs.
II. IN ITS PROMISCUOUSNESS. No one can keep the dew wholly for himself. It will bless his neighbor too. Nobody can limit or imprison God's blessings. They come on evil and on good.
III. IN ITS GENTLENESS. Contrast the deluges of rain in Eastern rainy seasons. The blessings of God are often missed by us because they come so silently, so unexpectedly, and so gently. The psalmist says, "Thy gentleness hath made me great."
IV. IN ITS GOING TO THE ROOTS OF THINGS. Dew is no surface-blessing. Its refreshing goes to the roots of the plants. God's blessings are often unobserved because they do not change our circumstances, but refresh and renew us; they give us new life.—R.T.