Dy gerydd Arglwydd allaf ddwyn

Dy gerydd, Arglwydd, allaf ddwyn,
Pan darddo maes o'th gariad mwyn:
  Ond dy ddigofaint, erchyll yw;
  I'm herbyn na ddoed hwn, O Dduw.

Tosturia wrth fy nychlyd stâd,
A dod i'm dolur esmwythâd,
  Y clwyfau wnaeth dy bwysig law,
  Iacha hwy'n dirion oddi draw.

Fy nyddiau blin wy'n dreulio, gwel,
Mewn griddfan prudd;
    a'r nos pan ddel,
  Fy ngwely, â'm deigr, wy'n ddwfrâu,
  Nes yw fy ngolwg yn gwanâu.

Gwel, fel y mae fy natur hon,
A'i holl bwerau'n brudd o'i bron:
  Pa bryd y daw dy rasol awr,
  Ac y caf foli'th râs yn fawr?

Fy nghnawd i'r bedd sydd yn nesâu;
O'm mewn mae gwan feddyliau'n gwau,
  Ond ni fawl beddau byth mo'r Ion,
  Y meirw s'yno'n tewi son.

Gelynion f'enaíd, ymadewch;
Meddyliau 'nobaith, ymaith ewch:
  Duw'r hwn a glybu nghwynfan tlawd,
  Iacha fy nghalon i a'm cnawd.

Thy rebuke, Lord, I can bear,
When it springs out of thy gentle love:
  But thy wrath, terrible it is;
  Against me, let this not come, O God.

Have mercy on my languid state,
And bring to my sorrow relief,
  The wounds thy weighty hand made,
  Heal them tenderly from yonder.

My days of grief I am spending, see,
In sad groaning;
    and the night when it comes,
  My bed, with my tears, I sm watering,
  Until my sight is growing weak.

See, how this nature of mine is,
With all its power, completely sad:
  When shall thy gracious hour come,
  And I can praise thy grace greatly?

My flesh to the grave is drawing near;
Within me are weak thoughts knitting,
  But never do graves praise the Lord,
  The dead that are there fall silent.

Ye enemies of my soul, depart!
Thoughts of hopelessness, go ye away!
  God, the one who hears my poor complaint,
  Shall heal my heart and my flesh.

Lord, I can suffer thy rebukes,
  When thou with kindness dost chastise;
But thy fierce wrath I cannot bear:
  O let it not against me rise.

Pity my languishing estate,
  And ease the sorrows that I feel;
The wounds thine heavy hand hath made,
  O let thy gentler touches heal!

See how I pass my weary days
  In sighs and groans;
      and when 'tis night
My bed is watered with my tears;
  My grief consumes, and dims my sight.

Look, how the powers of nature mourn!
  How long, Almighty God, how long?
When shall thine hour of grace return?
  When shall I make thy grace my song?

I feel my flesh so near the grave,
  My thoughts are tempted to despair;
But graves can never praise the Lord,
  For all is dust and silence there.

Depart, ye tempters, from my soul,
  And all despairing thoughts, depart;
My God, who hears my humble moan,
  Will ease my flesh, and cheer my heart.