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,
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