Lo! how a Rose, e'er blooming,
From tender stem hath sprung,
Of Jesse's lineage coming
As seers of old have sung;
It came, a blossom 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.
The shepherds heard the story
Proclaimed by angels bright,
How Christ, the Lord of glory
Was born on earth this night.
To Bethlehem they sped
And in the manger they found Him,
As angel heralds said.
O Flower, whose fragrance tender
With sweetness fills the air,
Dispels with glorious splendour
The darkness everywhere;
True man, yet very God,
From sin and death he saves us
And lightens every load.