Anthem text
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 flowret 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.

This flower whose fragrance tender
with sweetness fills the air,
dispels with glorious splendor
our darkness everywhere.
True flesh, yet very God,
from sin and death now saves us
and shares our every load.

15th cent. German, tr. Theodore Baker