On the First Day of Christmas . . .

Lo, how a rose e'er bllooming

Lo, how a rose e’er blooming
From tender stem hath sprung
Of Jesse’s lineage coming
as prophets long 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.

– Sixteenth Century Carol

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