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 had 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, whose fragrance tender
with sweetness fills the air,
dispels with glorious splendor
the darkness everywhere.
True man, yet very God,
from sin and death he saves us
and lightens every load.
4 O Savior, child of Mary,
who felt our human woe;
O Savior, king of glory,
who dost our weakness know:
bring us at length, we pray,
to the bright courts of heaven
and into endless day.
