Lo, a Fair Rose Ablooming

Lo

a fair Rose abloom­ing

From ten­der root hath sprung

Of Jes­se’s lin­eage com­ing

As men afore­time sung;

It bears a flow­er­et bright

While reigns the cold mid­win­ter

And dark­est is the night.

The lit­tle Rose I’m sing­ing

Whereof Isai­ah spoke

Mary to us is bring­ing

A maid of hum­ble folk;

By God’s eter­nal might

For us a child she bear­eth

While dark­est is the night.

The Flow­er­et is so low­ly

Whose frag­rance none can tell

With bright­ness strange and ho­ly

Doth all our dark dis­pel;

True Man

true God is He;

From ev­ery ill He sav­eth;

God grant we saved may be!