George Herbert's sermon emphasizes the deep cries, groans, and sighs of a soul in desperate need of God's mercy and compassion, acknowledging the weariness, hoarseness, and giddiness that come from the burdens of life. The plea is for God to hear, to not be indifferent or deaf to the heartfelt cries of His children, and to consider their sorrows and griefs with a compassionate ear. Despite feeling abandoned and in bitter grief, the speaker clings to the hope that God, who made the ear, will indeed hear and respond to their pleas for help and healing.

With sick and famisht eyes, With doubling knees and weary bones, To thee my cries, To thee my groans, To thee my sighs, my tears ascend: No end? My throat, my soul is hoarse; My heart is wither'd like a ground Which thou dost curse. My thoughts turn round, And make me giddy; Lord, I fall, Yet call. From thee all pity flows. Mothers are kind, because thou art, And dost dispose To them a part: Their infants, them; and they suck thee More free. Bowels of pity, hear! Lord of my soul, love of my mind, Bow down thine ear! Let not the wind Scatter my words, and in the same Thy name! Look on my sorrows' round! Mark well my furnace! O what flames, What heats abound! What griefs, what shames! Consider, Lord; Lord, bow thine ear, And hear! Lord Jesu, thou didst bow Thy dying head upon the tree: O be not now More dead to me! Lord hear! Shall he that made the ear, Not hear? Behold, thy dust doth stir, It moves, it creeps, it aims at thee: Wilt thou defer To succour me, Thy pile of dust, wherein each crumb Says, Come? To thee help appertains. Hast thou left all things to their course, And laid the reins Upon the horse? Is all lockt? hath a sinner's plea No key? Indeed the world's thy book, Where all things have their leaf assign'd: Yet a meek look Hath interlin'd. Thy board is full, yet humble guests Find nests. Thou tarriest, while I die, And fall to nothing: thou dost reign, And rule on high, While I remain In bitter grief yet am I stil'd Thy child. Lord, didst thou leave thy throne, Not to relieve? how can it be, That thou art grown Thus hard to me? Were sin alive, good cause there were To bear. But now both sin is dead, And all thy promises live and bide. That wants his head; These speak and chide, And in thy bosom pour my tears, As theirs. Lord JESU, hear my heart, Which hath been broken now so long, That ev'ry part Hath got a tongue! Thy beggars grow; rid them away Today. My love, my sweetness, hear! By these thy feet, at which my heart Lies all the year, Pluck out thy dart, And heal my troubled breast which cries, Which dies.