Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming 
Lo, how a rose e'er blooming 
From tender stem hath sprung, 
Of Jesse's lineage coming, 
As men of old have sung. 
It came a fl ow'ret bright 
Amid the cold of winter 
When half-spent was the night. 
Isaiah 'twas foretold it, 
This Rose that I have in mind. 
And with Mary we behold it, 
The Virgin Mother so sweet and so kind. 
To show God's love aright, 
She bore to men a Saviour 
When half-spent was the night. 
7 Cold Song 
What power art thou who from below 
Hast made me rise unwillingly and slow 
From beds of everlasting snow? 
See'st thou not how stiff, how stiff and wondrous 
old, 
Far, far unfi t to bear the bitter cold? 
I can scarcely move or draw my breath: 
Let me, let me, let me freeze again to death.