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 night. Isaiah 'twas foretold it, This Rose I have in mind. With Mary we behold it, The Virgin Mother so sweet and so kind. To show God's love aright, She bore to men a Saviour, When half-spent was the night