The roses in the garden, would bloom every year.
And mother would pick them, she held them so dear.
But one rose she would leave, to bloom in the sun.
She said I have plans, for this special one.
For years this went on, that rose was forgotten.
This rose still bloomed, as the others would rotten.
Now mama has gone home, to be with our savior.
And on her grave, was a rose someone had gave her.
God said in my garden, there are beautiful flowers.
And that one day, one would be ours.
We know mamas there, where the cool waters flow.
It was our dear Father, who had given her that rose.
Now in the spring, there is one rose that blooms.
A rose of beauty, that needs little room.
It too will be picked, when it fully grows.
And when we see Jesus, he will give us our rose.
Written by Ken Ferguson
Please do not use without permission!
If I Could Hear My Mother Pray Again
Vocal: George Jones
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