Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,Emma Lazarus (in the Statue of Liberty)
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-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
Those last lines give me chills every time. I think I’ve realized why: not only are they beautiful, but they also reflect Jesus Himself. He is in the business of rescuing those who can’t rescue themselves, uplifting those who are downtrodden, giving rest to those who are weary, being a home for those who are homeless, and being a good Father for the fatherless.
Your thunder roared from the whirlwind;Psalm 77:18-19 (about the Exodus)
the lightning lit up the world!
The earth trembled and shook.
Your road led through the sea,
your pathway through the mighty waters—
a pathway no one knew was there!
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