Destiny was delivered at the appointed hour Wednesday evening, arriving on the wings of baseball`s guardian angels doing the bidding of the Big Dodger in the Sky.

The holy and heartfelt invocation ''Beat New York'' was sent up from Dodger Stadium by a chorus of 55,693 faithful Los Angelenos, and the prayers on behalf of the team that has been christened ''Destiny`s Darlings'' were swiftly answered.

Of course, it was not supposed to happen. The Mets were installed as 17-to-10 favorites coming into the playoffs after beating the Dodgers in 10 of 11 games during the season. But at the end of Game 7 of the National League Championship Series, the verdict was clear: The unheralded Dodgers did it and the Mets were sent home for a winter of bitter dormancy and repose.

The Dodgers` pennant-clinching 6-0 thrashing of the Mets set the stage for an all-California World Series and a rematch of the 1974 fall classic between Los Angeles and the Oakland Athletics. The series will open here Saturday evening.

''Nobody though they could win,'' exultant Dodgers manager Tom Lasorda said. ''At spring training, they said the Dodgers are through. To restore the tradition of this organization is the greatest feeling in the world for me.'' The decisive game included courageous and brilliant pitching from Dodgers starter Orel Hershiser, making his fourth appearance in the series but scarcely worn for all the work.

Hershiser, a slender right-hander nicknamed ''Bulldog'' for his tenacity on the pitcher`s mound, scattered five hits and walked two in hurling a complete game.

His job was made less difficult by an early and effective Dodger attack against Mets starter Ron Darling, who had not lost in two earlier decisions against the Dodgers this year.

But on this night, Darling was something short of dear. The Mets` right-hander was in deep difficulty from the start.

The Dodgers scored once in the first and five more in the second, driving Darling from the mound after he had faced only 10 batters, retiring three.

The first he faced, Steve Sax, dropped a single over the second baseman`s head. On a hit and run play, Hatcher slashed a low drive past the diving Gregg Jefferies into the left-field corner.

Sax might have scored on the play had he noticed Kevin McReynolds slipping as he retrieved the ball down the left-field line.

Sax held his ground but scored easily moments later when Kirk Gibson, choosing not to bunt, sent a high fly ball that center-fielder Lenny Dykstra caught on the warning track in front of the 395-foot sign. The night before in the first inning, Gibson had popped up a bunt with two teammates on base.

The Dodgers stranded Hatcher at third when Darling struck out Mike Marshall and John Shelby.

The ace of the Mets` mound corps, Dwight Gooden, began throwing in the bullpen in the second inning after Mike Scioscia bounced a single to right, Jeff Hamilton sent a hard smash through the hole into left and Alfredo Griffin softly popped a bunt single on the first-base side of the mound.

Hershiser drove in a run with a bouncer to Jefferies. He dropped the ball in his haste to go home then threw too late to first to get the Dodgers`

pitcher.

Sax followed with a vicious single that rocketed past Darling into center-field, scoring two more runs and sending out the call for Gooden. He made his first relief appearance in the major leagues, not counting All-Star Games.

Before the inning was over, the Dodgers sent 11 men to the plate, five of them scoring.

Although the Mets` three relievers shut down the Dodgers the rest of the way, Hershiser remained in command, only once allowing a New York runner as far as third base.

The win provided a scripted Hollywood ending to a story that many thought would be plotted on Madison Avenue in behalf of the swaggering beasts of the East.

But with Hershiser`s game-ending strikout of Howard Johnson, all the leaves are turning brown back in New York, where the sky is surely grey.

For the next fortnight, baseball will be California dreaming.

And the insistent chants of ''Beat New York,'' that cascaded down from the grandstands, descending at first as gently as the oncoming dusk that turned the smog to a deep purple haze, grew into a roar in the darkness of a West Coast night.