There's a rose in a Bible. It's been there for years.
Pressed 'neath the pages. Stained with tears.
The Bible was mothers she heled when she prayed.
It now holds the rose I picked from her grave.
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And unlike the rose her memory wont fade.
And I'll never forget all that she gave.
My daddy is lonely. Her memory he saves.
And a rose in a Bible I picked from her grave.
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This is the Bible she read everyday.
She folded my hands and taught me to pray.
Now her hand lies folded. In Heaven she shines.
She's gone on to Glory. Just a rose left behind.
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And unlike the rose her memory wont fade.
And I'll never forget all that she gave.
Sometimes I can see her....see her sweet face.
And Oh how we miss her around the home place.
My daddy is lonely. Her memory he saves.
And a rose in a Bible I picked from her grave.
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Just a rose in a Bible I picked from her grave.
 
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