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 floweret 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 Savior
When half spent was the night