Compassion

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-tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door.

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-tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door.

Compassion opens the inner door of the heart.

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-tossed to me) I lift my lamp beside the golden door.

My own experience and development deepen every day my conviction that our moral progress may be measured by the degree in which we sympathize with individual suffering and individual joy.