TO TIRZAHWhate’er is born of mortal birthMust be consumèd 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 tearsDidst blind 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?Illustration:
Whate’er is born of mortal birthMust be consumèd 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 tearsDidst blind 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?
Illustration: