Michael W. Smith - Kentucky Rose Lyrics
Words & music: wayne kirkpatrick and michael w. smithSun comes up - sunday mornOn the little church where I been since I was bornAnd there he stood - a hearty smileYou could hear his voice ringing out for a country mileAnd he could place your mind at easeWith his tenderness and a heart that aimed to pleaseA paupers hands - a farmers clothesJust a preacher man we called kentucky roseHe worked the soul like he worked the landHe spoke in ways that anyone could understandSimple words of simple faithAnd when it came to love, he would go out of his wayA helping hand - a soothing chatAnd he practiced what he preached - imagine thatAnd as far as kindness goesThere was none compared to old kentucky roseEvening stroll cross shylers bridgeThats when he saw the boy trapped below that rocky ridgeHe knew the danger he would faceBut its as if he saved the child only to take his placeFor on that ridge of stone and iceKentucky met his maker in sacrificeWhy hes gone, God only knowsMaybe for the company of his kentucky roseSo peaceful in his sunday bestHe was buried on a hill and laid to restWhen people heard they came in drovesTo say their last good-byes to sweet kentucky roseNow, on that hill one flower growsThey say it is the spirit of kentucky roseThey say it is the spirit of kentucky roseI believe it is the spirit of kentucky rose...
