[1] We arose with the sun, and went out to saddle our
dromedaries, when we found to our great surprise that their
heads were buried in the sand; and it was not possible for
us to draw them out. We called the Bedouins of the tribe to
our aid, who informed us that the instinct of the camels
led them to conceal their heads thus, in order to escape
the simoom; that their doing so was an infallible presage
of that terrible tempest of the desert, which would not be
long in breaking loose; and that we could not proceed on
the journey without meeting a certain death. The camels,
who perceive the approach of this fearful storm two or
three hours before it bursts, turn themselves to the side
opposed to the wind, and dig into the sand. It is
impossible to make them stir from that position either to
eat or drink during the whole tempest, were it to last for
several days. Providence has endowed them with this
instinct of preservation, which never deceives them. When
we learned with what we were threatened, we partook the
general consternation, and hastened to take all the
precautions which they pointed out to us. It is not
sufficient to put the horses under shelter; it is requisite
also to cover their heads and stop up their ears, otherwise
they will be suffocated by the whirlwinds of fine
impalpable sand, which the storm sweeps furiously before
it. The men collect under their tents, block up the
crevices with the greatest care, and provide a supply of
water, which they keep within reach; they then lie down on
the ground, their heads covered with the mashlas, and thus
remain all the time that the tornado continues.
The camp was thrown into the greatest bustle, each bent on
providing safety for his cattle, and afterwards withdrawing
precipitately under his tent. We had scarcely got our
beautiful Negde mares under cover ere the tempest burst.
Impetuous blasts of wind buried clouds of red and burning
sand in eddies, and overthrew all upon whom their fury
fell; or, heaping up hills, they buried all that had
strength to resist being carried away. If, at this period,
any part of the body be exposed, the flesh is scorched as
if a hot iron had touched it. The water, which was intended
to cool us, began to boil, and the temperature of the tent
exceeded that of a Turkish bath. The hurricane blew in all
its fury for six hours, and gradually subsided during six
more; an hour longer, and I believe we had all been
stifled. When we ventured to leave the tents, a frightful
spectacle presented itself; five children, two women, and a
man were lying dead on the still burning sand, and several
Bedouins had their faces blackened and entirely calcined,
as if by a blast from a fiery furnace. When the wind of the
simoom strikes an unfortunate wretch on the head, the blood
gushes in streams from his mouth and nostrils, his face
swells, becomes black, and he shortly dies of
suffocation.--_Lamartine: Travels in the East,_ p. 213.
"A hiding-place from _the wind,_ a covert from _the
tempest._" Soon Red Sea and all were lost in a sand-storm,
which lasted the whole day. Imagine all distant objects
entirely lost to view,--the sheets of sand fleeting along
the surface of the desert like streams of water; tempest of
sand, driving in your face like sleet. Imagine the caravan
toiling against this--the Bedouins each with his shawl
thrown completely over his head, half of the riders sitting
backwards,--the camels, meantime, thus virtually left
without guidance, though, from time to time, throwing their
long necks sideways to avoid the blast, yet moving straight
onwards with a painful sense of duty truly edifying to
behold. . . . Through the tempest, this roaring and driving
tempest, which sometimes made me think that this must be
the real meaning of 'a _howling_ wilderness,' we rode on
the whole day.--_Dean Stanley: Sinai and Palestine,_ pp.
68, 69.
[2] I was reading, a day or two ago, one of our last books of
travels in the wilderness of the Exodus, in which the
writer told how, after toiling for hours under a scorching
sun, over the hot white marly flat, seeing nothing but a
beetle or two on the way, and finding no shelter anywhere
from the pitiless beating of the sunshine, the three
travellers came at last to a little Retem bush only a few
feet high, and flung themselves down and tried to hide at
least their heads from those 'sunbeams like swords,' even
beneath its ragged shade. And my text tells of a great
rock, with blue dimness in its shadow, with haply a fern or
two in the moist places of its crevices, where there is
rest and a man can lie down and be cool, while all outside
is burning sun, and burning sand, and dancing mirage.--_A.
Maclaren._
[3] When I was at Nuremberg, among the scenes of interest, I
visited the tower where are preserved some of the
instruments of torture which were used both by the
Inquisition and the Municipality in the Middle Ages. As one
looked at them, the heart grew sick at the thought of the
pain which by means of them had been inflicted upon
countless victims; and _as_ instruments by which human
beings had been tortured, they were hateful. On the other
hand, when one thinks what this verse has been to countless
human souls, what consolation and courage it has ministered
to those who were sick at heart in many generations, it is
impossible not to look upon it with love.
[4] It is one of a large number of passages which I like to
think of as _Scripture's lamps._ Starting at mid-day from a
railway terminus, you wonder to see that the lamps in the
carriages are lighted; but very soon the train plunges into
a tunnel, and you perceive that they were not lighted a
moment too soon. So with these lamps of Scripture: get them
hung up in your soul at the outset of your journey in life.
Sooner than you think you will find yourself in some dark
tunnel of trial. It will be too late _then_ to think of
furnishing yourself with them. Blessed are those then in
whom they are brightly shining!
[5] It is not to be expected that the young will fully
appreciate it. They have not had the experience necessary
to enable them to do so. At the outset of a voyage,
passengers are apt to think most about those things in a
ship which are comparatively unimportant--the size of their
berths, the elegant decorations of the cabin, &c.; but
before it is ended, especially if the voyage is a stormy
one, they come to think more about the staunchness of the
vessel, the strength of the rigging, the seamanship of the
captain rather than of his fitness or unfitness for a
drawing-room. So in dealing with the Bible: at the outset
of life, we are apt to give our whole attention to things
_comparatively_ unimportant, such as the possibility of
reconciling the first chapter of Genesis with the teaching
of modern science, &c.; but, by and by, trouble teaches us
to value the Scriptures as our only sure guide amidst
life's moral perplexities, as our only true comforter
amidst life's sorrows. It is trouble that teaches us that
the promises are "precious promises;" and therefore I may
fairly expect that the promise of our text will be prized
by the aged.
[6] One day--one of the most beautiful and happy days I have
ever known--I and some friends visited the Valley of Rocks,
at Lynton, in North Devon. We had selected for our
dining-place the shaded side of one of the largest of the
rocks which have made that valley famous. Just as we were
finishing our repast, an aged gentleman approached us, and
asked to be permitted to share our resting-place. "I should
not have intruded upon you," he said, "but I am very
weary." Instantly my text recurred to my memory, and I saw
somewhat of its power and beauty: "As the shadow of a great
rock in a weary land." In such a land, on such a day, how
welcome is the sight of a great rock! How sweet and
refreshing to rest in its cooling shade! Amid the toils and
troubles of life we often need rest and refreshment. _Have
you found them in Christ?_ Are the declarations of our text
true?