I came wounded, worn and wanting
I came thirsty, torn and tattooed
head to my toe
by sin, and stained soul deep,
hoping Calvary still flows crimson
but there's no blood at calvary.

I came weary, worried and wrinkled
I came perturbed, pricked and pained
I came for his flesh, water and the blood
dying to drown in Christ's soul-saving flood
But there's no blood at Calvary.

Am I one too dirty His blood can't wash?
Is His blood too poor to bleach my debts?
Am I one too broken whose faith He ignores?
Have I wandered beyond Rock of Ages' cleft?
Why's Calvary bankrupt of blood?

If His blood has reached its clot,
Can my tears my sins atone?
Have I hurt sour the Holy Ghost?
Why doth the Father hang drop call?