Michael W. Smith
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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

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

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


Mirror lyrics:

I believe it is the spirit of Kentucky
They say it is the spirit of Kentucky Rose
They say it is the spirit of Kentucky Rose
Now on that hill one flower rose

To say their last goodbyes to sweet Kentucky Rose
When people heard,they came in droves
He was buried on a hill and laid to rest
So peaceful in his Sunday best,

Maybe for the company of his Ketucky Rose
Why he's gone, God only knows
Kentucky met his maker in a sacrafice
For on that ridge of stone and ice,

It's as if he saved the child only to take his place
He knew the danger that he would face
Cause when he saw the boy tramping on that rocky ridge
Evenings stroll crossed shadows bridge

There was none compared to old Kentucky Rose
And as far as kindess goes
And he practiced what he preached, imagine that
A helping hand, a soothing chat

And when it came to love, he would go out of his way
Simple words of simple faith
He spoke in ways anyone could understand
He worked the soul like he worked the land

Just a preacher man we called Kentucky Rose
A papa's hands, a farmer's clothes
With his tenderness and a heart that aimed to please
And he could place your mind at ease

You could hear his voice ringin' out for a country mile
And there he stood, a hearty smile
On the little church where I've been since I was born
Sun comes up, Sunday morn


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