Lo How a Rose
Lo how a rose e'er blooming,
From tender stem hath sprung,
Of Jesse's lineage coming,
As saints of old have sung.
It came, a flower 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.










0 comments:
Post a Comment