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Chief of sinners though I be 
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. 
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! 
Jesus only can impart balm to heal the smitten heart; peace that flows from sin forgiven, joy that lifts the soul to heaven; faith and hope to walk with God in the way that Enoch trod. 
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. 
O my Savior, help afford by thy Spirit and thy word! When my wayward heart would stray, keep me in the narrow way; grace in time of need supply while I live and when I die. 
William McComb (1793-1870), 1864