Lo, how a Rose e'er bloom-ing
From ten-der stem hath sprung!
Of Jes-se's lin-eage com-ing,
As men of old have sung.
It came a Flow-'ret bright,
A-mid the cold of win-ter,
When half-spent was the night.

I-sa-iah 'twas fore-told it,
The Rose I have in mind.
With Ma-ry we be-hold it,
The Vir-gin Moth-er kind.
To show God's love a right,
She bore to men a Sav-ior,
When half-spent was the night.