Behold, a Branch is growing

Behold, a Branch is growing Of loveliest form and grace, as prophets sung, foreknowing; It springs from Jesse's race And bears one little Flow'r In midst of coldest winter, At deepest midnight hour.

Isaiah hath foretold it In words of promise sure, And Mary's arms enfold it, A virgin meek and pure. Thro' God's eternal will This Child to her is given At midnight calm and still.

The shepherds heard the story, Proclaimed by angels bright, How Christ, the Lord of Glory, Was born on earth this night. To Bethlehem they sped And in a manger found him, As angel heralds said.

This Flow'r whose fragrance tender With sweetness fills the air, Dispels with glorious splendor The darkness ev'rywhere. True Man, yet very God; From sin and death He saves us And lightens ev'ry load.

O Saviour, Child of Mary, Who felt our human woe; O Saviour, King of Glory, Who dost our weakness know, Bring us at length we pray, To the bright courts of Heaven And to the endless day.