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 sprung from shame and pride
Blowed 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?

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