1. Lo, how a Rose e’er blooming

from tender stem hath sprung!

Of Jesse’s lineage coming

as seers of old have sung.

It came, a blossom 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. O Flower, whose fragrance tender

with sweetness fills the air,

dispel in glorious splendor

the darkness everywhere;

true man, yet very God,

from sin and death now save us,

and share our every load.