Sting

How a rose e'er blooming

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.

O flower whose fragrance tender
With sweetness fills the air
Dispel in glorious splendor
The darkness everywhere
True man yet very god
From sin and death now save us
And share our every load