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.

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 Saviour,

When half spent was the night.

This flower, whose fragrance tender

With sweetness fills the air,

Dispels with glorious splendor

The darkness everywhere.

True man, yet very God,

From sin and death He saves us

And lightens every load.