High above the valley of Quito
An old man and his bride grow roses
Red and yellow, white and golden
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 that theyve never seen at all
Theyre praying that 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, watered in tears
Honey, thats all they have and theyre happier here
Than any of our friends back home
They 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 Im back at home, all alone,
And Im trying to find my thoughts
That old mans so inspiring,
But the TVs always on
And the phone, it wont stop ringing,
These bills, they keep on screaming
Theyre paying for all the things
That we never really needed
And I wonder what hes 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...
The Roses