1. Lo, how a rose e’er blooming,
From tender stem hath sprung.
Of Jesse’s lineage coming,
As men of old have sung ;
It came, a flow’ret bright,
Amid the cold of winter,
When half spent was the night.
2. Isaiah ’twas foretold it,
The Rose I have in mind,
With Mary we behold it,
The virgin mother kind ;
To show God’s love aright,
She bore to men a Savior,
When half spent was the night.
3. O Flower, whose fragrance tender
With sweetness fills the air,
Dispel with glorious splendour
The darkness everywhere ;
True man, yet very God,
From sin and death now save us,
And share our every load.
