The Roses

High above the Valley of Quito

An old man and his bride grow roses

Red and yellow, white and golden

And to him they are precious as children

Their daughter, she moved to America

One more brick in the tower of Babel

She has a son they've never seen at all

And they're praying they raised her well

On the mountain high

They will live and die

As time just slips away

And the children grow

In the God they know

As time just slips away

A man, his bride, his children, and his roses

Planted in faith and watered in tears

Honey, that's all they have, and they're happier here

Than any of my friends back home

They've met Jesus and they really know Him

On the mountain high

They will live and die

As time just slips away

And the children grow

In the God they know

As time just slips away

Now I'm back at home, all alone, and trying to find my thoughts

About that old man, so inspiring, but the TV's always on

And the phone, it won't stop ringing, and these bills, they keep on screaming

To pay for all the things that we have never really needed

And I wonder what he's doing right now

Maybe walking through his simple field and thinking about how

God has blessed him so

A man, his bride, his children, and his roses

On the mountain high

They will live and die

As time just slips away

And the children grow

In the God they know

As time just slips away