Lo, how a rose e're blooming
From
tenderstem hath sprung,
Of
Jesse's lineage coming
As
men of old have sung.
It
came, a floweret bright,
Amid
the cold of winter
When
half spent was the night.
2
Isaiah
'twas foretold it,
The
Rose I have in mind,
With
Mary we beheld it,
The
virgin mother kind.
To
show God's love aright
She
bore to them a Savior,
When
half spent was the night.