A lovely rose is sprung,
Out of a tender root,
As men of old have sung,
From Jesse's stem a shoot.
And so a flower bright
Has bloomed in coldest winter
E'en in the deepest night.

The little rose I mean
Whereof Isaiah told,
Pure Mary, maid serene
Brought forth alone — behold:
Through God's eternal might
A little child she bore us
E'en in the deepest night.