Iaith calon yr ynfydion yw

Iaith calon
      yr ynfydion yw
  Nad oes un Duw i'w barnu;
Hwy ymlygrasant yn ddi-gêl,
  Heb ddyn a wnel ddaioni.

Gw'radwyddant gynghor y tylawd,
  Gan wneuthur gwawd o hono,
Am fod yr Argwydd yn ei ras
  Yn obaith addas iddo.

Pan ddelo o'r caethiwed du,
  I fyny i'w gyfannedd,
Fe ymhyfryda Israel lân,
  Ar felus gân orfoledd.

The language
      of the heart of the foolish is
  That there is no God to judge them;
They had become corrupt openly,
  Without a man who would do good.

They scorned the counsel of the poor,
  While making a mockery of him,
Since the Lord in his grace is
  A worthy hope to him.

When he come from the black captivity,
  Up to his habitation,
Holy Israel will boast,
  In a sweet song of jubilation.

[1] Sure, wicked fools
      must needs suppose,
  that God is nothing but a Name:
Corrupt and lewd their practice grows,
  no breast is warm'd with holy flame.

[5] Ill men in vain with scorn expose
  those methods which the good pursue:
[6] Since God a refuge is for those
  whom his just eyes with favour view.

[7] Would he his saying pow'r employ,
  to break his people's servile band;
Then shouts of universal joy
  should loudly echo through the land.