Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor, Your Huddled Masses Yearning to Breathe Free.

When I hear the words of Jesus in the 11th chapter of Matthew, I am reminded also of similar words found at the Statue of Liberty. They are the words of the poem, “The New Colossus,” written by Emma Lazarus in 1883, and they are engraved on a bronze plaque on the inside of the lower level of the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty: Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. "Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"