1 Chief of sinners though I be,
Jesus shed his blood for me;
Died that I might live on high,
Died that I might never die;
As the branch is to the vine,
I am his, and he is mine.

2 O the hight of Jesus' love!
Higher than the heaven above,
Deeper than the deepest sea,
Lasting as eternity;
Love that found me, wondrous tho't!
Found me when I sought him not!

3 Chief of sinners though I be,
Christ is all in all to me;
All my wants to him are known,
All my sorrows are his own;
Safe with him from earthly strife,
He sustains the hidden life.