other translations - Praetorius

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 flow’ret 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.