1 Lo, how a rose e'er blooming
From tender stem hath sprung.
Of Jesse's lineage coming,
By faithful prophets sung.
It came a floweret 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 for us a Savior,
When half spent was the night.