1 Lo, how a rose e'er blooming
from tender stem hath sprung;
of Jesse's lineage coming,
as saints 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 behold it,
the virgin mother kind.
To show God's love aright,
she bore to us a Savior
when half spent was the night.
3 This flower, so small and tender,
with fragrance fills the air;
his brightness ends the darkness
that kept the earth in fear.
True God and yet true man,
he came to save his people
from earth's dark night of sin.
4 O Savior, child of Mary,
who felt our human woe;
O Savior, King of glory,
who does our weakness know:
bring us at length, we pray,
to the bright courts of heaven
and into endless day.
