Whate'Er Is Born Of Mortal Birth Must Be Consumed With The Earth, To Rise From Generation Free: Then What Have I To Do With Thee? The Sexes Sprang From Shame And Pride, Blown In The Morn, In Evening Died; But Mercy Changed Death Into Sleep; The Sexes Rose To Work And Weep. Thou, Mother Of My Mortal Part, With Cruelty Didst Mould My Heart, And With False Self-Deceiving Tears Didst Bind My Nostrils, Eyes, And Ears, Didst Close My Tongue In Senseless Clay, And Me To Mortal Life Betray. The Death Of Jesus Set Me Free: Then What Have I To Do With Thee?