Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming

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, 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.

O Flower, whose fragrance tender With sweetness fills the air, Dispel with glorious splendour The darkness everywhere; True man, yet very God, From Sin and death now save us, And share our every load.