Uploaded on December 6, 2011
A spotless Rose is blooming
Sprung from a tender root.
Of ancient seers foreshadowing
Of Jesse’s promised fruit.
Its fairest bud unfolds to light
Amid the cold, cold winter
And in the dark midnight.
The Rose which I am singing
Whereof Isaiah said,
Is from its sweet root springing
In Mary, purest maid.
For, through God’s great love and might,
The blessed Babe she bare us
In a cold, cold winter’s night.
—Anonymous, 16th century
O Holy Night
edited by Johann Moser
12.06.2023: Another poem by one of my former college professors.