Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming

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 floweret 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 men a Savior,
When half spent was the night.