Lo, how a Rose e'er blooming
From tender stem hath sprung!
Of Jesse's lineage coming
As those of old have sung
It came, a floweret 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 us a Savior
When half spent was the night