There's a rose in Bethlehem,
With a beauty quite divine,
Perfect in this world of sin,
On this silent, holy night.
There's a fragrance much like hope,
That it sends upon the wind,
Reaching out to every soul,
From a lowly manger's crib.
Oh, Rose of Bethlehem,
How lovely, pure and sweet,
Born to glorify the Father,
Born to wear the thorns for me.
There's a rose in Bethlehem,
Coloured red like mercy's blood,
Tis the flower of our faith,
Tis the blossom of God's love.
Though its bloom is fresh with youth,
Sure what will be He knows.
For a tear of morning dew,
Is rolling down the rose.
Oh, Rose of Bethlehem,
How lovely, pure and sweet.
Born to glorify the Father,
Born to wear the thorns for me.
Oh, Rose of Bethlehem,
How lovely, pure and sweet,
Born to glorify the Father,
Born to wear the thorns for me.
Born to glorify the Father,
Born to wear the thorns for me.