Lo, How a Rose E're Blooming

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 night.

Isaiah 'twas fortold 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 spent was the night.