1. Lo, how a rose e’re blooming
    From tenderstem 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.
  2. Isaiah ’twas foretold it,
    The Rose I have in mind,
    With Mary we beheld it,
    The virgin mother kind.
    To show God’s love aright
    She bore to them a Savior,
    When half spent was the night.

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