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Lo, how a Rose e'er blooming |
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From tender stem hath sprung! |
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Of Jesse's lineage coming |
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As men of old have sung |
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It came, a flow'ret bright, |
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Amid the cold of winter |
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When half spent was the light. |
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Isaiah 'twas foretold it |
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The rose I have in mind, |
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With Mary we behold it, |
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The Virgin Mother kind. |
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To show God's love aright, |
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She bore to men a Saviour, |
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When half spent was the night. |
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O flow'r, whose fragrance tender |
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With sweetness fills the air, |
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Dispel in glorious splendour |
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The darkness ev'ry where. |
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True man, yet very God, |
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From sin and death now save us, |
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And share our ev're load. |
