Lyrics:

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