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
flower bright,
Amid the cold of winter
When half-gone 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-gone was the night.
This
Flower, whose fragrance tender
With sweetness fills the
air,
Dispels with glorious splendor
The darkness
everywhere.
True man, yet very God,
From sin and death He saves
us
And lightens every load
