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
Those of old have sung
It came, a floweret right,
Amid the cold of winter,
When half spent was the night,

Isaiah twice foretold it,
The Rose I have in mind;
And so then 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.