(This is the latest revision of a piece I first posted in 2009.)
On this national holiday, let’s take some time (between the barbecues and fireworks) to recall: Emma Lazarus’ poem inscribed on the base of the Statue of Liberty; a teaching of Jesus found in Matthew’s gospel; my daily Pause for Prayer; and a video of Irving Berlin’s musical setting for Lazarus’ words.
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.
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.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened,
and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,
for I am meek and humble of heart;
and you will find rest for yourselves.
For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,
for I am meek and humble of heart;
and you will find rest for yourselves.
For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.
Let’s pause and pray…
Lord, open wide my heart
to welcome any
who’ve been turned aside,
to welcome any
who’ve been turned aside,
turned back, turned down
or turned away:
in my own family,
in my own family,
in my neighborhood,
in my parish,
in my town,
where I work,
where I work,
where I study,
where I play
and ’round the world…
May the light of my words and deeds
lift high a lamp of welcome
and my open heart provide a place
of refuge, rest and comfort
for the weary and heavy burdened…
and my open heart provide a place
of refuge, rest and comfort
for the weary and heavy burdened…
Let my heart open wide for others, Lord,
as your heart opens for me…
Amen.
Give Me Your Tired by Irving Berlin
If a video doesn’t appear below, click here!
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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.
