Sighs -- whether swift to Heaven they rise
As morning gilds the skies --
Or GOD, by omnipresent ear,
When they are sigh'd, is near --
Since GOD vouchsafes what I desire,
'Twere fruitless to inquire.
In Heaven accounts of sighs are kept,
Of every tear that's wept;
Saints feel the blessing back they bring,
Swift as angelic wing:
The humble what they beg obtain, --
They never sigh in vain.