Текст песни There is a flower - John Rutter feat. Laurence Kilsby, Tewkesbury Abbey Schola Cantorum & Benjamin Nicholas
                                                There 
                                                is 
                                                    a 
                                                flow'r 
                                                sprung 
                                                of 
                                                    a 
                                                tree,
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                root 
                                                thereof 
                                                is 
                                                called 
                                                Jesse,
 
                                    
                                
                                                    A 
                                                flow'r 
                                                of 
                                                price;
 
                                    
                                
                                                There 
                                                is 
                                                nons 
                                                such 
                                                in 
                                                paradise.
 
                                    
                                
                                                This 
                                                flow'r 
                                                is 
                                                fair 
                                                and 
                                                fresh 
                                                of 
                                                hue,
 
                                    
                                
                                                It 
                                                fadeth 
                                                never, 
                                                but 
                                                ever 
                                                is 
                                                new;
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                blessed 
                                                brandh 
                                                this 
                                                flow'r 
                                                on 
                                                gres
 
                                    
                                
                                                Was 
                                                Mary 
                                                mild 
                                                that 
                                                bere 
                                                Jesu;
 
                                    
                                
                                                    A 
                                                flow'r 
                                                of 
                                                grace;
 
                                    
                                
                                                Against 
                                                all 
                                                sorrow 
                                                it 
                                                is 
                                                solace.
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                seed 
                                                hereof 
                                                was 
                                                Goddes 
                                                sand,
 
                                    
                                
                                                That 
                                                God 
                                                himself 
                                                sowed 
                                                with 
                                                his 
                                                hand,
 
                                    
                                
                                                In 
                                                Nazareth 
                                                that 
                                                holy 
                                                land,
 
                                    
                                
                                                Amidst 
                                                her 
                                                arbour 
                                                    a 
                                                maiden 
                                                found;
 
                                    
                                
                                                This 
                                                blessed 
                                                flow'r
 
                                    
                                
                                                Sprang 
                                                never 
                                                but 
                                                in 
                                                Mary's 
                                                bower.
 
                                    
                                
                                                When 
                                                Gabriel 
                                                this 
                                                maid 
                                                did 
                                                meet,
 
                                    
                                
                                                With 
                                                'Ave 
                                                Maria' 
                                                he 
                                                did 
                                                her 
                                                greet;
 
                                    
                                
                                                Between 
                                                them 
                                                two 
                                                this 
                                                flow'r 
                                                was 
                                                set
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                safe 
                                                was 
                                                kept, 
                                                no 
                                                man 
                                                should 
                                                wit,
 
                                    
                                
                                                Till 
                                                on 
                                                    a 
                                                day 
                                                in
 
                                    
                                
                                                Bethlem 
                                                it 
                                                could 
                                                spread 
                                                and 
                                                spray.
 
                                    
                                
                                                When 
                                                that 
                                                fair 
                                                flow'r 
                                                began 
                                                to 
                                                spread
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                his 
                                                sweet 
                                                blosom 
                                                began 
                                                to 
                                                bed,
 
                                    
                                
                                                Then 
                                                rich 
                                                and 
                                                poor 
                                                of 
                                                ev'ry 
                                                land
 
                                    
                                
                                                Marvelled 
                                                how 
                                                this 
                                                flow'r 
                                                might 
                                                spread,
 
                                    
                                
                                                Till 
                                                kinges 
                                                three
 
                                    
                                
                                                That 
                                                blessed 
                                                flower 
                                                came 
                                                to 
                                                see.
 
                                    
                                
                                                Alleluia, 
                                                alleluia. 
                                                .
 
                                    
                                
                                                Angels 
                                                there 
                                                came 
                                                from 
                                                heaven's 
                                                tower
 
                                    
                                
                                                To 
                                                look 
                                                upon 
                                                this 
                                                freshele 
                                                flow'r,
 
                                    
                                
                                                How 
                                                fair 
                                                he 
                                                was 
                                                in 
                                                his 
                                                colour
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                how 
                                                sweet 
                                                in 
                                                his 
                                                savour;
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                to 
                                                behold
 
                                    
                                
                                                How 
                                                such 
                                                    a 
                                                flow'r 
                                                might 
                                                spring 
                                                in 
                                                gold.
 
                                    
                                
                                                There 
                                                is 
                                                    a 
                                                flow'r 
                                                sprung 
                                                of 
                                                    a 
                                                tree,
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                root 
                                                thereof 
                                                is 
                                                called 
                                                Jesse,
 
                                    
                                
                                                    A 
                                                flow'r 
                                                of 
                                                price;
 
                                    
                                
                                                There 
                                                is 
                                                none 
                                                such 
                                                in 
                                                paradise.
 
                                    
                                
                            1 O Be Joyful
2 Mary's Lullaby
3 When Icicles Hang: IV. Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind
4 King Jesus Hath a Garden
5 A Gaelic Blessing
6 All things bright and beautiful
7 For The Beauty Of The Earth
8 What Sweeter Music
9 The Lord Bless You and Keep You
10 Requiem: III. Pie Jesu
11 Star Carol
12 There is a flower
13 The Lord is my shepherd
14 Poème de l'amour et de la mer: 2. Interlude
15 Angel's Carol
16 Nativity carol
17 Open Thou Mine Eyes
18 Carol of the Magi
19 Candlelight Carol
20 Wells Jubilate
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