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