But go, my son, when Abra'm thou
In blissful peace shalt meet, avow
Superior reverence to me
For I gave seven, but one gave he→
But tempted was his faith when tried,
See mine performed-my Isaacs died.
"What shall I add?" Her reason flown,
Why should she linger here alone-
Wandering unguarded, heedless, fell
She whom her Lord had honored well."
Has Judah now no valiant dame
That might such awful honors claim?
For answer: In my northern home
You'll see, ere wintry weather come,
The fields the cheery flowers adorn,
Bejeweled bright at early morn;
Then fierce the driving, biting storm
Will bare the meads of every form
That spring and summer spread around
So lavish on the fertile ground.
But brightly then the heather bell
Purple the hills I love so well.
When dangerous foxgloves, crimson clover
Lie hid till winter storms are over;
The bloom upon the Arcadian hills
Is blown by that which verdure kills.
If Judah's winter comes again,
Her hero dames shall bloom amain.
Song of Judas Maccabeus Before the Battle of Maspha
ON, warriors and chiefs! every step we have trod,
Though blood-stained with carnage and heaped
with the slain,
Bear witness we fight for the glory of God,
Whose aid we have asked, nor entreated in vain.
Attest it your armies, whose glittering array
At noonday outshown in his splendor the sun,
Attest it ye proud girded warriors, who lay
Unhonored and cold when the battle was done.
They came to subdue us, Oh, God of the just!
Thy arm was our shield, Thy protection our power,
Still aid and defend us, Oh, Thou whom we trust,
In prosperity's pride and affliction's dark hour.
When we cease to remember the martyrs, whose blood
They have poured out like water, may we be forgot;
When we cease to remember the fierce pangs they
withstood,
May our strength be derided, our memory a blot.
Oh, falter not when their fierce glittering host Comes spreading destruction and blight o'er the land;
Remember proud Syrian, how vain was his boast, And firm be your hearts like the rocks where you stand.
Then on! can ye waver when Heaven's pure light
Smiles approvingly down on the path we have trod?
On! on! be it victory or death! ere the night
We have conquered or died for the glory of God.
REBEKAH HYNEMAN.
The Miraculous Oil
LITTLE cruet in the Temple
That dost feed the sacrificial flame,
What a true expressive symbol
Art thou of my race, of Israel's fame!
Thou for days the oil didst furnish
To illume the Temple won from foe
So for centuries in my people
Spirit of resistance ne'er burnt low.
It was cast from home and country,
Gloom and sorrow were its daily lot;
Yet the torch of faith gleamed steady,
Courage, like thy oil, forsook it not.
Mocks and jeers were all its portion,
Death assailed it in ten thousand forms-
Yet this people never faltered,
Hope, its beacon, led it through all storms.
Poorer than dumb, driven cattle,
It went forth enslaved from its estate,
All its footsore wand'rings lighted
By its consciousness of worth innate.
Luckless fortunes could not bend it;
Unjust laws increased its wondrous faith;
From its heart, exhaustless streaming,
Freedom's light shone on its thorny path.
Oil that burnt in olden Temple,
Eight days only didst thou give forth light!
Oil of faith sustained this people
Through the centuries of darkest night!
The Feast of Lights
INDLE the taper like the steadfast star
Ablaze on evening's forehead o'er the earth,
And add each night a lustre till afar
An eightfold splendor shine above thy hearth. Clash, Israel, the cymbals, touch the lyre,
Blow the brass trumpet and the harsh-tongued horn;
Chant psalms of victory till the heart take fire,
The Maccabean spirit leap new-born.
Remember how from wintry dawn till night,
Such songs were sung in Zion, when again
On the high altar flamed the sacred light,
And, purified from every Syrian stain,
The foam-white walls with golden shields were hung,
With crowns and silken spoils, and at the shrine,
Stood, midst their conqueror-tribe, five chieftains sprung
From one heroic stock, one seed divine.
Five branches grown from Mattathias' stem,
The Blessed John, the Keen-Eyed Jonathan,
Simon the fair, the Burst-of-Spring, the Gem,
Eleazar, Help of God; o'er all his clan
Judas the Lion-Prince, the Avenging Rod,
Towered in warrior-beauty, uncrowned king,
Armed with the breastplate and the sword of God,
Whose praise is: "He received the perishing."
They who had camped within the mountain-pass,
Couched on the rock, and tented 'neath the sky,
Who saw from Mizpah's height the tangled grass
Choke the wide Temple-courts, the altar lie
Disfigured and polluted-who had flung
Their faces on the stones, and mourned aloud
And rent their garments, wailing with one tongue,
Crushed as a wind-swept bed of reeds is bowed,
Even they by one voice fired, one heart of flame,
Though broken reeds, had risen, and were men,
They rushed upon the spoiler and o'ercame,
Each arm for freedom had the strength of ten.
Now is their mourning into dancing turned,
Their sackcloth doffed for garments of delight,
Week-long the festive torches shall be burned,
Music and revelry wed day with night.
Still ours the dance, the feast, the glorious Psalm,
The mystic lights of emblem and the Word.
Where is our Judas? Where are our five-branched palm?
Where are the lion-warriors of the Lord?
Clash, Israel, the cymbals, touch the lyre,
Sound the brass trumpet and the harsh-tongued horn,
Chant hymns of victory till the heart take fire,
The Maccabean spirit leap new-born!
Chanukah Hymn
LORD, the true that follow thee
Beam in vict'ry's radiant light,
Fill'd their hearts with joyous glee,
Even in the darkest night.
Roaring billows wild and fleet,
Onward pressed the enemy's band; Israel's remnant Jacob's seat,
How wilt thou their might withstand?
Rise ye heroes, rise to fight
For your standard, truth divine,
Not by numbers nor by might,
By his spirit ye shall shine.
And inspired by such appeal
Ev'ry man to hosts increased;
And they fought with holy zeal
Till the tyrant-hold released.
Lord, thy truth, thy holy love,
Is our cherish'd banner still;
And in faith for evermore,
Thy command we follow will.
ADOLPH HUEBSCH.
Golden Lights for, Chanukah
GOLDEN lights, shine out anew,
Shine out with radiance bright and true,
While gazing on your golden glow
You speak to me of long ago.
Of patriots who shed their blood
For Israel's cause, for faith, for God.
Did not they sacrifice their all
When clarion-like there came the call?
"Whose on the Lord's side, come to me,
Lord among the gods, who is like thee?".
JANIE JACOBSON.
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