Give ear, O ye heavens, and I will speak.
Moses’ adjuration
Isaiah makes a similar sublime commencement to his prophecies, apostrophising heaven and earth in nearly identical language. Moses had already used the same sentiment in simple didactic form when he said, “I call heaven and earth to witness this day, that I have set before thee life and death, the blessing and the curse,” and thereby he explains the meaning of this more highly poetic style of adjuration. Such an adjuration indicates great intensity, elevation, and sincerity of feeling, while calling attention to the solemn importance of what is about to be said. It is like a herald’s cry, the sound of the tocsin, or the summoning of an assize. For heaven and earth had both of them been witnesses of the covenant and giving of the law. By a sudden but suggestive transition we are introduced to the style and theme of the song. The change is from the awe-inspiring to the tenderest of moods; but it is made without derogating from the loftiness of the thought. The imagery of the gentle rain and the softly distilling dew is a fit sequel to the opening appeal to heaven and earth, and bespeaks attention to the source, the quality, and the design of the song.
1. Its source. The reference to dew and rain implies, first of all, that the whole subject, suggestion, and origin of the song is from above. Nothing but a voice Divine will ever avail to soften human nature, come home to the conscience, subjugate the will and reign in the affections. “Ascribe ye greatness,” therefore, that is, authoritativeness, “unto our God.”
2. Its quality. “My doctrine shall drop as the rain, my speech shall distil as the dew.” The song is just the pith and substance of the Book of Deuteronomy; the distilled quintessence of the Deuteronomic law and covenant. It is a protestation that no community can ever thrive, surmount their dangers and slough off their corruptions, by simply confining their attention to earthly relations and requisitions. They need a higher motive and spirit of life as a sustaining and self-cleansing principle--in one word, a Gospel of God.
3. Its design. “As the small rain upon the tender grass, and as the showers upon the herb”; gentle, yet copious and penetrative; soft, seasonable and saturating; not like a sudden but soon spent thunderstorm, nor the beating of hail that dashes where it alights; rather like small rain, the softer it falls the deeper it sinks; or like the dew, the more insinuating it is, the more fertilising and lastingly effective. (A. H. Drysdale, M. A.)
My speech shall distil as the dew.
God’s doctrine as the dew
What a representation of gentleness! The doctrine shall not fall in torrents, but it shall drop; the speech shall not even be felt in its descent, for it shall distil. Yet who is it employs this gentlest of all gentle imagery? It is Moses: the self-same man who had pronounced the terrific judgments on Egypt. He had promulgated a system which was given forth in thunder, and lightning, and thick darkness, and a terrible tempest; the publication of this law was attended with the severest penalties. Notwithstanding every appearance to the contrary, it was true of every word which God spake by Moses, as well as of every word which Jesus spoke, that His doctrine dropped like the rain, and distilled like the dew. We need scarcely tell you that the term “doctrine” includes all God’s teaching in every portion of His revelation to man. It matters not whether truth be found in direct assertions of great principles, or whether it be wrapped up in the imagery of poetry, the shadows of the types, the facts of history, or the allegories of parables; it is all the same truth. Thus not only is every form of God’s Word “doctrine,” but in its fertilising effects on the soul may most appropriately be compared to the dropping rain and distilling dew. But in order to understand this gentle character ascribed by Moses to God’s doctrine, you must take heed that you do not fall into several errors which will perplex your belief in the dew-like influence of Divine truth. The first of these errors is to confound the effect of doctrine itself with that outward teaching by which it may often be set forth. The mere manner of teaching is no just criterion of the matter of teaching. There are differences of character which even demand differences of outward instruction. But, secondly, we must warn you against supposing that God does not sometimes adopt an internal as well as an external mode of teaching, which may appear to conflict with the statements of our text. How often do the threatenings of Divine wrath seem to lay hold on the spirit, and for a time keep it shrinking beneath the prospect of inevitable destruction! But notwithstanding these modes of teaching which God may often employ, yet we maintain that the substance of that teaching is what Moses describes it--gentle as the dropping rain, the distilling dew, the small rain, the soft shower. You will remark that the sacred writer declares that his doctrine is to be like “small rain on the tender herb”; and this sentence it is which explains the entire seeming anomaly we have noticed. God’s truth does not fall like small rain on the hardy, tough, strong herb, but like small rain on the tender herb. There must be a preparation--a softening of the soul to receive the gentle influences of the Gospel. And not only at our first conversion to God, but even afterwards, the herb may become hardened, and require occasional softening, before the small rain is given. The advanced Christian sometimes complains of waves and billows; he hears deep calling to deep at the noise of God’s waterspouts. But the sole reason of this is that there is some deficiency in the tenderness of the herb--some setting up of the head which needs the blast of the storm to bring it low, God loves not to see a proud look; He loves not a stiff-necked obedience; He loves not to find His servant chafing against the bit; He must have the herb tender. The ground being thus prepared, the doctrine of the Lord always drops as the rain and distils as the dew. But let us glance at a few brief practical truths which the imagery of our text suggests.
1. If you are watered by this heavenly dew, it must be all--pervading: Look at the grass after the dew has fallen; it is thoroughly covered with moisture; nothing saturates it so completely; a storm would not wet it half so effectually; the plant is all over the same; no leaf but it sparkles with dewdrops; no blade escapes; all are steeped in dew. Now, is it the same with you? The operation of the Spirit is always total and entire. All things become new where He works.
2. Then, secondly, recollect that another of the characteristics of this dew is its diffusiveness. Not only is the dew the most equal and general giver of moisture, but the plants which receive it pass it on to others. From leaf to leaf, and from blade to blade it falls, so that if you pass through a forest on a dewy morning it is one constant dropping. So must it be with the Christian. He is not only to be influenced by the Spirit himself, but by the aid of the same Spirit he must pass on that influence to others.
3. Thirdly, still another feature of this dew is its fertilising effects. It often falls most heavily at times of the year when drought prevails, and when the plants would otherwise be scorched and withered. Its final effect is not superficial; it does not merely wet the leaves and flowers, but it percolates to the very root. The dew thus develops itself in fruits: it waters the plant, and makes it bring forth abundantly. And so with our dew. Whenever the influences of the Spirit are felt, the fruits of the Spirit are seen.
4. But, lastly, another feature of this dew is that it will prove specially and abundantly operative in the time of trial. It is not when the sun shines that the dew falls; it principally descends when the day is wrapped in evening shades or when the morning is still hidden in twilight, or when dark night has already set in: so likewise is sorrow a time of special dew falling. When have the promises and love of God so gentle and yet powerful an influence as in affliction’s sad hour? When are His cheering truths so sweet as when trouble embitters the soul? (D. F. Jarman, M. A.)
The dew of the Word
“Distil as the dew.” Who hears the dew fall? What microphone could reveal that music to our “gross unpurged ears”?
1. The dew distils in silence. So does the speech of God. In stillness God’s love is condensed into dew like communications; not read, nor heard, but known by direct power of the Spirit upon the soul. Not much in noise, turmoil, and bustle.
2. The dew distils in darkness. You look out some dark night: there is no storm, no rain, not the least token to your senses of what is going on. In the morning you see every blade and leaf tipped with a dewdrop, everything revived and freshened, prepared for the heat of the day. So His words fall on your souls in darkness, not with sensible power; nothing flashes out from the page, nothing shines to shed pleasant light on your path. You do not hear sound of abundance of rain, but the words are distilling as the dew and preparing you for day.
3. The dew falls not in one mass of water, but innumerable little drops. What one drop does not reach another does. It is not one overwhelmingly powerful word which does this holy night work in the soul, but the unrealised influences of many, dropping silently on the plants of the Lord; one resting here, another there; one touching an unrecognised need, another reaching an unconsciously failing grace. “Each drop uncounted hath its own mission, and is duly sent to its own leaf or blade.”
4. Sometimes God’s dew goes on falling many hours of night. Watches seem long, and starlight does not reveal it. But none is lost; some is already doing hidden work as it falls around the very roots of our being, some ready to be revealed in sparkling brightness when the night is over; lessons learnt among the shadows to be lived out in the sunshine.
5. The object of the dew is to maintain life in dry places and seasons. In rainless regions this is better understood. Any dry week in summer we see enough to understand the beauty of the figure. This speech is spirit and life to souls, however feebly, yet really alive to God. Dew does nothing for stones, nor a dead leaf. It falls on little fading plants, whose leaves absorb life, renewing moisture, and closed blossoms open out again with fresher fragrance than before. Dryness is more to be dreaded than darkness. (F. R. Havergal.)
Genuine religious teaching
I. Genuine religious teaching is gentle. Descends on the soul as the dew and small rain. The great religious teachers have been quiet talkers.
II. Genuine religious teaching is penetrating. Goes down through the intellect into the conscience and heart.
III. Genuine religious teaching is refreshing. Descends with quickening influence into the soul. (Homilist.)
Soothing nature of Christian doctrine
The lovely gentleness, the refreshing and cheering nature, of Divine doctrine is here most beautifully set forth. And, indeed, very useful is it that the amiable character of our blessed religion should be as much as possible presented to the view of men. For could they once see it they would be so in love with its beauty that their whole soul would be ravished with delight in thinking of it, and would teem with desire to be effectually possessed of it. But how is the beauty of religion to be shown to men? It cannot be really apprehended but by experience. Wherefore offer a fervent prayer to heaven for grace to dispose your hearts to receive this Word. We cannot be surprised at finding the “yoke easy and the burden light” of that Master who is thus “meek and lowly in heart.” He graciously promises that if we take this yoke upon us we shall “find rest to our souls.” This doctrine does, indeed, drop upon the souls of troubled sinners with the softness of a gentle rain falling upon a fleece of wool. Is, then, all forgiven? Am I cleansed from all my sin, relieved from all my guilt? Am I at peace with God? Do I partake of His love? “Blessed is he whose unrighteousness is forgiven, and whose sin is covered.” But when we come to consider the new life, the service of Christ, which must follow if we are to walk in favour with God, shall we then find this comfort and gentleness of Christian doctrine? Most assuredly we shall in the doctrine itself. The resistance which our passions and inclinations make to the Divine law causes all the discomfort and painfulness in submitting our hearts to be ruled by it. But it may be acknowledged that holiness of heart and life when attained may be comfortable, delightful; and yet a man may say, Doubtless it would be good for me to give up my unchaste and intemperate manner of living, but I cannot endure the self-denial necessary for it. A man may say, It would be good indeed for me to be a devoted servant of Jesus, but I don t know how to tear myself from my old habits, and leave my feigner companions. Could I see all this done, see myself become a new creature, and become associated with religious people, I believe that I could be happy. But now think of this one thing. What kind of Master are you called upon to serve? Is it not Jesus Christ, the kind and forbearing? Will not He be a gentle Master to you? With what gentleness is He represented administering spiritual food to the souls of His people! How considerate is He set forth of the different spiritual condition and circumstances of men, how tender to those who are in weakness, or in a great trial and difficulty! By the gentle influences of the Holy Spirit He can convert the soul, and change all its dispositions and affections. Thus will Jesus, in the most-gentle and yet the most powerful manner, lead those who commit themselves to Him. (R. L. Cotton, M. A.)
Doctrine as rain; speech as dew
The earth without rain cannot grow one tiny grass blade; when the clouds keep away the flowers hang down their heads, and shrivel and burn, and represent the very spirit of necessity and pain. We must have the black clouds; how welcome they are after a time of drought and scorching, when the earth is opening its mouth and asking for a draught of water! So God’s doctrine is to be poured out upon thirsty souls, burnt and scorched lives, ruined and unproductive natures. The rain plash is a sweet music, a tender appeal, a liquid persuasion. The rain will accommodate itself to all forms and shapes, and it will impartially visit the poor man’s little handful of garden and the great man’s countless acres. Such is the Gospel of Christ: it is impartial, gentle, necessary; it finds the heart when the heart is scorched, and asks to heal its burning, and to make the barren land of the inner life beautiful with summer flowers. We cannot tell how the Word gets into the heart--how softly, how silently: it is there, and we knew it not; we expected it, and at the very time we were looking out for it, it was already there; it is the secret of the Lord, and it moves by a noble mystery of action, so that no line can be laid upon it, and no man may arbitrarily handle the wealth of gold. “As the small rain upon the tender herb, and as the showers upon the grass.” There shall be adaptation between the one and the other: if the herb is “tender” the rain must be “small.” Do not thunder upon us with Thy great power; do not plead against us with all the winds of Thine eloquence, for who could stand against the storm? On the other hand, the tenderer the grass the better it can bear even the scudding shower and the heavy downpour. Great trees are torn, or wrenched from their roots, or are thrust down in contempt, but all the grass of the meadow is but the greener for the winds which have galloped over it, or the great rivers that have poured themselves upon the emerald bed. Jesus will bless the meek, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peace loving; but as for those who in heathen vanity set themselves up against Him, He will dash them in pieces like a potter’s vessel. The Word does not always produce an instantaneous effect: the Word has sometimes to filter well down into the thought and into the heart and life; and the Word does not report itself in the mere quantity of the doctrine, but in the greenness of the young grass, in the beauty and fruitfulness of the tender herb: no statistical return shall be made of the number of discourses heard, or the number of Chapter s read, but the life shall be the more verdant in spring-like beauty, and the more splendid in all the colouring of summer. (J. Parker, D. D.)
As the small rain upon the tender herb.--
Small rain for tender herbs
The highest power is consistent with the lowliest tenderness. He that is mightiest in word is mighty, not so much in thunder, and earthquake, and fire, as in a silent persuasiveness.
I. Moses meant to be tender. Moses intended, in the sermon he was about to preach, to be exceedingly gentle. He would water minds as tender herbs, and water them in the same fashion as the small rain does. He would not be a beating hail, nor even a down-pouring shower, but he would be “as the small rain upon the tender herb.”
1. And this is the more remarkable, because he was about to preach a doctrinal sermon. Does he not say, “My doctrine shall drop as the rain”?
2. It is equally remarkable that this discourse of Moses was a sermon of rebuke, lie rebuked the people, with no small degree of sternness, when he said, “Jeshurun waxed fat, and kicked; thou art waxen fat, thou art grown thick; then he forsook God which made him.” He warned the people of their great sin, and he did not hesitate to say, “They are a nation void of counsel, neither is there any understanding in them.” Yet he felt that he had rebuked with the utmost meekness, and had still been as the soft dew and gentle rain. Upbraiding must be done in tenderness.
3. Furthermore, his style of speech was compassionately considerate, even as the dew seems to consider the withered grass, and the small rain to adapt itself to the tender herb. In his teaching he evidently thought of the feebler sort, and suited himself to those depressed by grief.
4. Furthermore, note well that the truth which our Lord spoke had always a refreshing effect upon those who were spiritually alive,. Our blessed Master’s sermons were “as the small rain upon the tender herb,” not merely for the softness of their descent, but for the wondrous efficacy with which they came. His words fell not as fire flakes to destroy, nor as the dust from the wilderness to defile, but ever as the warm shower to cherish. So we learn that Moses meant to be tender, and Jesus was tender. What else do we learn?
5. Why, that all the servants of Jesus Christ ought to he tender; for if Moses was so, much more should we be.
II. Moses hoped to be penetrating: “as the small rain upon the tender herb.” Now, small rain is meant to enter the herb, so that it may drink in the nourishment and be truly refreshed. The rain is not to drench the herb, and it is not to flood it; it is to feed it, to revive it. This was what Moses aimed at. That is what all true preachers of Christ aim at. Why is it some people never seem to take in the Word, “as the small rain upon the tender herb”?
1. I suppose it is, first, because some of it may be above their understanding. If you hear a sermon, and you do not know at all what the good man is about, how can it benefit you?
2. Many do not drink in the sacred Word because it seems to them too good to be true. This is limiting the goodness of God: God is so good that nothing can be too good to be looked for from Him.
3. Many persons do not receive the Gospel promise to the full because they do not think it is true to them; anybody else may be blessed in that way, but they cannot think it probable that they shall be. Though the Gospel is particularly directed to sinners, yet these good folks think, “Surely grace could never reach to us.” Oh, how we lose our labour, and fail to comfort men, because of the unbelief which pretends to be the child of humility, but is really the offspring of pride! The small rain does not get at the tender herb, because the herb shrinks from the silver drops which would cherish it.
4. No doubt many miss the charming influences of heavenly truth because they do not think enough. Is it not strange that people should think sermons worth hearing, but not worth meditating upon? It is as foolish as if a man thought a joint of meat worth buying, but not worth cooking; for meditation is, as it were, a sort of holy cookery by which the truth is prepared to be food for the soul.
5. And, once more, we ought to pray that when we hear the Word we may be prepared to receive it: it is of great importance that we should open the doors of our soul to let the Gospel enter us. Hospitality to truth is charity to ourselves.
III. Moses hoped to see results. “As the small rain upon the tender herb.” Now, observe, in looking about among mankind, that whenever wise men expect any result from their labours, they always go to work in a manner adapted to the end they have in view. Finding the people to be comparable to tender herbs, he adapted his speech to them, and made it like the small rain. Now, what will be the result if we do the same? It will come to pass there will be among us young converts like tender herbs, newly planted, and if we speak in tenderness we shall see the result, for they will take root in the truth, and grow in it. Paul planted, and then Apollos watered. Why did Apollos water? Because you must water plants after you have planted them, that they may the more readily strike into the earth. Happy shall you be if you employ your greater experience in strengthening those whose new life is as yet feeble. Next, when a man’s discourse is like small ram to the tender herb, he sees the weak and perishing one revive and lift up his head. The herb was withering at first, it lay down faint and ready to die; but the small rain came, and it seemed to say, “Thank you,” and it looked up, and lifted its head, and recovered from its swoon. You will see a reviving effect produced upon faint hearts and desponding minds. You will be a comforter, you will cheer away the fears of many, and make glad the timid and fearful. What a blessing it is when you see that result, for there is so much the more joy in the world, and God is so much the more glorified! When you water tender herbs, and see them grow, you have a further reward. It is delightful to watch the development and increase of grace in those who are under our care. (C. H. Spurgeon.)