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The land is as the garden of Eden before them, and behind them, a desolate wilderness. Yes, and no one has escaped them.

Their appearance is as the appearance of horses, and they run as horsemen. Like the noise of chariots on the tops of the mountains, they leap, like the noise of a flame of fire that devours the stubble, like a strong people set in battle array.

At their presence the peoples are in anguish. All faces have grown pale.

They run like mighty men. They climb the wall like warriors. They each march in his line, and they don’t swerve off course.

One doesn’t jostle another. They each march in their own path.

They burst through the defenses and don’t break ranks.

They rush on the city.