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,
This Rose I have in mind.
With Mary we behold it,
The Virgin Mother so sweet and so kind.
To show God's love aright,
She bore to men a Saviour,
When half-spent was the night.