all night; but seeing their own camp all smoke and flame, they turned
and fled away. Nine thousand of the invaders had been slain, and the
whole camp, full of arms and treasures, was in the hands of Judas, who
there rested for a Sabbath of glad thanksgiving, and the next day parted
the spoil, first putting out the share for the widows and orphans and
the wounded, and then dividing the rest among his warriors. As to the
slave merchants, they were all made prisoners, and instead of giving a
talent for ninety Jews, were sold themselves.

The next year Lysias came himself, but was driven back and defeated at
Bethshur, four or five miles south of Bethlehem. And now came the
saddest, yet the greatest, day of Judas's life, when he ventured to go
back into the holy city and take possession of the Temple again. The
strong tower of Acra, which stood on a ridge of Mount Moriah looking
down on the Temple rock, was still held by the Syrians, and he had no
means of taking it; but he and his men loved the sanctuary too well to
keep away from it, and again they marched up the steps and slopes that
led up the holy hill. They went up to find the walls broken, the gates
burnt, the cloisters and priests' chambers pulled down, and the courts
thickly grown with grass and shrubs, the altar of their one true God
with the false idol Jupiter's altar in the middle of it. These warriors,
who had turned three armies to flight, could not bear the sight. They
fell down on their faces, threw dust on their heads, and wept aloud for
the desolation of their holy place. But in the midst Judas caused the
trumpets to sound an alarm. They were to do something besides grieving.
The bravest of them were set to keep watch and ward against the Syrians
in the tower, while he chose out the most faithful priests to cleanse
out the sanctuary, and renew all that could be renewed, making new holy
vessels from the spoil taken in Nicanor's camp, and setting the stones
of the profaned altar apart while a new one was raised. On the third