1 Lo! how a Rose e'er blooming
from tender stem hath sprung,
of Jesse's lineage coming,
as saints of old have 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 to us a Savior,
when half-spent was the night.

3 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.