Sennacherib

"Then the angel of the Lord went forth, and smote in the camp of the Assyrians an hundred and four-score and five thousand; and when they arose early in the morning, behold, they were all dead corpses: So Sennacherib, king of Assyria, departed." — Isa. xxxvii. 36, 37.

The trumpet pealed its joyful cry,

The coal-black war-horse neighed;

The glittering banner floated high,

With heart of steel and threatening eye,

Each warrior drew his blade.

The setting sun at close of day,

O'er Carmel's mount of dew,

Bathed with its light the proud array

Of champing steeds and plumage gay,

And flags, that glittering flew.

But lo! The morn returns from far,

And snowy plume and sword,

The haughty chief, the steed of war,

The lifted trump, the smoking car,

Have fall'n before the Lord.

God's angel, like the desert's blast,

Came flying down the sky;

He hurled his vengeance as he past,

And every warrior breathed his last,

And closed was every eye.

Oh Lord, with Thee is endless might,

To Thee be endless praise;

For thou canst curb the crimson fight,

The warrior's plume of glory blight,

And quench his armor's blaze.

— The Religious Offering (1835).