Some have crosses, bells that ring Most have angels painted with wings Old men and blind ones can find their way in Got statues, apostles, and other godly things In desserts they build 'em of mortar and clay In barrios they stick 'em by fire escapes They outlast the setbacks of earthquakes and plagues They burn them like haystacks, another one is raised In the backwoods of the country in the empire state Wherever there's somebody at the crossroads that waits At the junction of right now and a little too late You'll see one before you with wide open gates It's a hospital for sinners ain't no museum of saints There could be a casket and bums on the steps A baby in a basket, being left It's a good place to shuffle when you've gone through the deck It's the closest to heaven on earth you can get Will shelter a poor man, humble a great It's where derelicts and outlaws can hide for a day The worst hearts you've known can be salvaged and saved The same room that lovers' vows are exchanged It's a hospital for sinners ain't no museum of saints You'll sin till you drop Then ask to be saved If it's a comeback you want Then get your hands raised There's more than a few on nearly every map More than a couple alone on this path You ought to be in one when you beg your way back Cut off at the knees at its feet you'll collapse Hospital for sinners ain't no museum of saints It's a hospital for sinners ain't no museum of saints