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 light. 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 saviour, When half spent was the night. O flow'r, whose fragrance tender With sweetness fills the air, Dispel in glorious splendour The darkness ev'ry where. True man, yet very god, From sin and death now save us, And share our ev're load.