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 light. 



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. 



O flow'r, whose fragrance tender



With sweetness fills the air, 

Dispel in glorious splendour 

The darkness ev'ry where. 



True man, yet very God,



From sin and death now save us, 

And share our ev're load.