Kindling Sabbath Lights In The Soul

Of childhood, fair childhood, the

years are long fled:

Youth's candles are quenched, and

my mother is dead.

And yet ev'ry Friday, when twilight


The face of my mother within me


A prayer on her lips, "O Almighty

be blessed.

For sending us Sabbath, the angel of


And some hidden feeling I cannot


A Sabbath light kindles, deep, deep

in my soul.

This poem was written by Jewish poet,
Phillip M. Raskin, about his childhood with this touching
memory of his mother lighting the Shabbat candles.

I like to thank Rabbi Mike Short for sending this poem
to me, I just love it...

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