 |  |
"He shall not come into this city, nor shoot an arrow there, nor come before it with
shields, nor cast a back against it . . . . . For I will defend (Heb. shield*) this city to save it
for Mine Own sake, and for My servant David's sake" (Isa. 37: 33-35).
[NOTE: * - See the series "The Eternal God is thy Refuge".]
How "the angel of the Lord" smote the camp of the Assyrian, and what, or who,
actually constituted the "messenger" thus indicated, we do not know. Some say a plague
was spread among the camp by hosts of mice (deriving some support for the idea from an
Egyptian inscription), but this is mere speculation. "He maketh His angels spirits, and
His ministers a flame of fire." All things subserve His purposes. An east wind brought
Israel a supply of food in the wilderness (Psa. 78: 26) even as the Lord used a strong
east wind to open a way for them through the Red Sea (Exod. 14: 21). Miracles are no
less miraculous because, in the execution of them, natural agents are used.
"Then the angel of the Lord went forth and smote in the camp of the Assyrians a
hundred and fourscore and five thousand: and when they arose early in the morning,
behold, they were all dead corpses" (Isa. 37: 36).
So was Hezekiah delivered, and, as history and prophecy are intimately blended
together in this book, so we see here a forecast of the day when the last great Blasphemer
and Oppressor shall be "broken without hand". There can be little in common between
"Byron" and "Berean", yet few can read unmoved the poet's description of the
destruction of Sennacherib.
"The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold:
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen:
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown,
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed on the face of the foe as he pass'd.
*
*
*
*
*
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!"
--(Lord Byron).