Kentucky Rose Lyrics - Michael W. Smith

Sun comes up, Sunday morn 

On the little church where I've been since I was born 

And there he stood, a hearty smile 

You could hear his voice ringin' out for a country mile 

And he could place your mind at ease 

With his tenderness and a heart that aimed to please 

A papa's hands, a farmer's clothes 

Just a preacher man we called Kentucky Rose 

He worked the soul like he worked the land 

He spoke in ways anyone could understand 

Simple words of simple faith 

And when it came to love, he would go out of his way 

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A helping hand, a soothing chat 

And he practiced what he preached, imagine that 

And as far as kindess goes 

There was none compared to old Kentucky Rose 

Evenings stroll crossed shadows bridge 

Cause when he saw the boy tramping on that rocky ridge 

He knew the danger that he would face 

It's as if he saved the child only to take his place 

For on that ridge of stone and ice, 

Kentucky met his maker in a sacrafice 

Why he's gone, God only knows 

Maybe for the company of his Ketucky Rose 

So peaceful in his Sunday best, 

He was buried on a hill and laid to rest 

When people heard, they came in droves 

To say their last goodbyes to sweet Kentucky Rose 

Photos 

Now on that hill one flower rose 

They say it is the spirit of Kentucky Rose 

They say it is the spirit of Kentucky Rose 

I believe it is the spirit of Kentucky