Kindle the taper like the steadfast star

Ablaze on evening's forhead o'er the earth,

And add each night a luster till afar

An eightfold splendor shine above thy hearth.

Clash, Israel, the cymbals, touch the lyre,

Blow the brass trumpets and the harsh-tongue horn;

Chant psalms of victory till the heart takes fire,

The Maccabean spirit leap newbron.

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 conquer-tribe, five chieftains sprung

From one heroic stock, one seed divine.

Five branches grown from Mattathias' stem,

The Blessed Johanan, the Keen-eyed Jonathan,

Simon the Fair, the Burst-of-Spring, the Gem,

Elazar, Help-of-G-d; o'er all his clan

Judah the Lion-Prince, the Avenging Rod,

Towered in warrior-beauty, uncrowned king,

Armed with the breastplate, and the sword of G-d,

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 Mizpeh's heights 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 windswept bed of reeds is bowed,

Even they by once 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 Judah? Where our five-branched palm?

Where are our lion-warriors of the L-rd?

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 newborn!