"Dr. Flinders Petrie, when faced with the question of how 600,000 (?) men ever lived in (the Plains of Mt.), Sinai, explains that the word which has been translated "thousand" in Exodus 12:37 should be translated "families." – national geographic magazine, December, 1927, page 730.
But how about Numbers 1:45-47, where it is recorded, "From twenty years old and upward, all that were able to go forth to war in Israel.. .were 603,550," excluding the Tribe of Levi? With the males under 20 years of age and those too old for war, all the women and girls, and the mixed multitude, there must have been at least 4,500,000! God, is the answer. "Flocks and herds and much cattle" did not have to be slaughtered to feed them; instead they fed for a month on the daintiest kind of flesh now served in our restaurants-quail.
The Hebrew word translated "thousand (s)" is used 484 times in the O. T., and is -always translated "thousand (s)" except once, where the context compels it to be translated "family," Judges 6:15. The other Hebrew word translated "thousands" is used 18 times in the O. T. and means, "myriads," 1:e., any number (indefinite) from a thousand to a billion. R. L. Roberts.
"They shall walk, O Lord, in the Light of Thy Countenance. In Thy name shall they rejoice all the day"-Ps. 89:15, 16.
How full our cup of joy would be,
Yes, full, and running o'er,
If, blessed Lord, in knowing Thee
We wished for nothing more.
Then, as the potter takes the clay
And molds it to his will,
So, Lord, in Thy hands we should stay,
Should trust Thee, and be still.
What favors not Thy purpose, Lord,,
Can but our course impede;
What does not form us to Thy word,
From this may we be freed.
O Lamb of God, for sinners slain,
How much we owe to Thee!
Thy ransomed-through death's bitter pain-
Help us to live for Thee!
Enlarge our hearts to love Thee more,
To rest in things above;
Our grief to count our failures o'er,
Our joy, Thy changeless love.
For he, who, simply as a child,
Delights in Jesus' love,
Speeds onward through the weary wild,
As happy as a dove!
Thy cup of sorrow mixed below,
By love's unerring hand,
A weight of glory will bestow,
When we before Him stand.
No fear will there our faces cloud,
Of form our vision screen;
His beauteous image we'll behold,
And nought shall come between.