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 brance is to the vine, I am His, and He is mine. 2 O the height of Jesus’ love! Higher than the heaven above, Deeper than the deepest sea, Lasting as eternity; Love that found me-wondrous thought! 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.