With Glorious Splendor

                                                            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 flower bright, 

Amid the cold of winter

When half-gone 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 men a Savior

When half-gone was the night. 

This Flower, who fragrance tender

With sweetness fills the air,

Dispels with glorious splendor

The darkness everywhere.

True man, yet very God,

From sin and death He saves us

And lightens every load. 

*           *          *

MERRY CHRISTMAS!