Fy nghalon mor galed yw

Fy nghalon, mor galed yw,
Er clywed peraidd eiriau Duw!
  Trom, oer, a marw dan fy mron,
  Fel craig o iâ 'rwy'n teimlo hon!

Ni chaf at Dduw
    prin godi llef,
Na phrofi dim o ras y nef,
  Mae hon o hyd yn llethu'm ffydd,
  A mygi'm sel a'm cariad bydd.

Tynera'm calon, Iesu mâd,
Yn ffynnon goch dy werthfawr waed!
  Nid all ond gwaed
      fy Nuw ei hun,
  Byth doddi'r fath garegog un.

My heart, so hard is,
Despite hearing the sweet words of God!
  Heavy, cold, and dead beneath my breast,
  Like a rock of ice I am feeling it!

I will not come to God,
    hardly raise my cry,
Nor experience anything of heaven's grace,
  This is still smothering my faith,
  And choking my zeal and my love it shall.

Tenderise my heart, virtuous Jesus,
In the red well of thy precious blood:
  Nothing but the blood
      of my God himself can,
  Ever melt such a stony one.

My heart, how dreadful hard it is!
  How heavy here it lies!
Heavy and cold within my breast,
  Just like a rock of ice!

How seldom do
    I rise to God,
  Or taste the joys above!
This mountain presses down my faith,
  And chills my flaming love.

Dear Saviour, steep this rock of mine
  In thine own crimson sea;
None but a bath
    of blood divine
  Can melt the flint away.