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 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