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 flow'ret bright,   Amid the cold of winter   When half spent was the light.      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 saviour,   When half spent was the night.      O flow'r, whose fragrance tender      With sweetness fills the air,   Dispel in glorious splendour   The darkness ev'ry where.      True man, yet very god,      From sin and death now save us,   And share our ev're load.