Give to me your tired and your poor

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me."



Blessed are the persecuted

And blessed are the pure in heart

Blessed are the merciful

And blessed are the ones who mourn



The step is hard that tears away the roots

And says goodbye to friends and family

The fathers and the mothers weep

The children cannot comprehend

But when there is a promised land

The brave will go and others follow

The beauty of the human spirit

Is the will to try our dreams

And so the masses teemed across the ocean

To a land of peace and hope

But no one heard a voice or saw a light

As they were tumbled onto shore

And none was welcomed by the echo of the phrase

"I lift my lamp beside the golden door."



Blessed are the persecuted

And blessed are the pure in heart

Blessed are the merciful

And blessed are the ones who mourn