Race-pure Germans, happy holiday to you.

On this, your blasphemous holy day, hatred is your sanctity.

A people is a drum on which to beat money-greedy sounds,

Thrashing out a harvest of years of envy and desire.

A shrieking finger points out all

I give you gifts; and wish you luck.

In the mob's heart there's noise and robbery.

Every desire gets stolen ten thousand times.

A.J.Heschel ,the third stanza from On the Day of Hate, in Moral Grandeur and Spiritual Audacity, FS&G, p. 71