A rose there springs from tender root,
Christ-bearer, hailed in songs of old,
the flower of God's eternal love,
a new flame lit in winter's cold.
When half-spent was the silent night,
the rose foretold by prophets' tongue
give birth to one named Prince of Peace,
whose alleluias gladly sung
by angels in the frosty skies
brought shepherds to the manger-bed
to worship him; as so do we.
The Christmas rose in white and red,
bright in the darkness of these times
is sign for us of Mary's Grace -
Light of the World, of her new-born,
reflects in her so gentle face.
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