Some have crosses bells that ring Most have angels painted with wings Old men and blind ones can find their way in Got statues and apostles and other godly things In desserts they build them of mortar and clay In barrios they stick them by fire escapes They outlast the setbacks of earthquakes and plagues They burn them like haystacks and another one is raised In the backwoods of the country and 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 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 It's a shelter a poor man it'll 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 In 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 It's a hospital for sinners ain't no museum of saints It's a hospital for sinners ain't no museum of saints