Lo, How A Rose Ever Blooming
From Tender Stem Hath Sprung!
Of Jesse’s Lineage Coming
As Men Of Old Have Sung.
Lo, How A Rose Ever Blooming
From Tender Stem Hath Sprung!
Of Jesse’s Lineage Coming
As Men Of Old Have Sung.
It Came, A Floweret Bright,
Amid The Cold Of Winter,
When Half-Spent Was The Night.
Isaiah It Was Fore Told 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.
This Flower, Whose Fragrance Tender
With Sweetness Fills The Air,
Dispels With Glorious Splendour
The Darkness Everywhere.
True Man, Yet Very God,
From Sin And Death He Saves Us
And Lightens Every Load.
O Saviour, Child Of Mary,
Who Felt Our Human Woe;
O Saviour, King Of Glory,
Who Dost Our Weakness Know,
Bring Us At Length We Pray
To The Bright Courts Of Heaven,
And To The Endless Day.
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