Chanukah

THE HAND of Time moves o’er the dial,

And guides the seasons through the year;

It drives the sorrow from our hearts—

Behold—the Feast of Lights is here!

The Feast of Lights—old mem’ries stir,

And pride within our breast soars high,

We live again in ancient days,

When Judah’s glory was the cry.

We see the Maccabees of old

Bow low within the house of God;

Where Syrian hands defiled the halls,

Where Israel’s patriarchs had trod.

Now light we tapers for their deeds;

Awak’ning in each heart a prayer,

That we may like the Maccabees

The glory and the valor share.

The Feast of Lights—a time when hope

Throws off the yoke of sorrow’s rod,

To wing its way above the flames

That leap to glory and to God!