Paham mae nghalon i mor bell?

Paham mae nghalon i mor bell
Oddiwrth fy Nuw, pa Gyfaill gwell?
  Mwy o'm meddyliau pa'm na bydd,
  Duw, gydâ thi y nos a'r dydd?

Pa ham y gwibia'm nwydau gwael?
Pa le mae'r fath felusdra i gael,
  Ag y ge's i yn y mwynhad
  O honot ti a'th gariad rhad?

Pan fyddo f'enaid gwan yn cael
Rhyw newydd brawf o'th gariad hael
  Rhyfygu mae fy nghalon gas,
  Na chollaf fyth o'r cyfryw flas.

Ond cyn el heibio awr i gyd,
Daw rhyw abwydon gan y Byd,
  I dynnu'r blas
      a'r dymmer hon,
  A llygru fy diddanwch llon.

Teganau nattur têg eu pryd,
A'u wwynion hudol sydd o hyd
  Yn gwthio mewn i'm galon ffol,
  A thaflu'm Ceidwad mwyn
      o'm Col.

Yna'r wy'n blino f'enaid trist,
Edifarhau im' adael Crist;
  O na chadwaswn gyd â'm Ffrynd,
  A'i nadael o'm serchiadau fyn'd.

Llawenydd pechod droes yn boen,
Mewn gofid soddais yn ddi hoen;
  Ond, f'anwyl Arglwydd, eilwaith ddaw
  A chysur i mi maes o iaw.

At f'enaid daw'n ddisymmwth syn,
A rhwymau cariad têg fe'u tyn;
  Tosturi yn ei wyneb sydd,
  Ac yn ei law im' bardwn rhydd.

Ys truan wyf, mawr oedd fy mai,
Grwydro ar ol pleserau gau;
  Byth wrth dy groes yn rhwym yr wy',
  Cyn colli'r olwg arnat mwy.

Gwnewch Frys fy nyddiau i gyrchu'r nod,
I mi gael gorphwys byth a bod
  Ar ganol bwynt fy enaid byw,
  Dwy-fron fy Mhrynwr
      mwyn a'm Duw.

Why is my heart so far
Away from my God, what better Friend?
  Why shall more of my thoughts not be,
  God, with thee by night and by day.

Why do my base lusts flit?
Where is such sweetness to be got,
  As I got in the enjoyment
  Of thee and thy gracious love?

When my weak soul would get
Some new taste of thy generous love
  Presuming is my detestable heart,
  That I shall never lose such a taste.

But before an hour all passes,
Some bait comes from the world,
  To take away the experience
      and this mood,
  And corrupt my cheerful comfort.

Nature's trinkets, fair their appearance,
And their enchanting charms are still
  Pushing into my foolish heart,
  And flinging my gentle Saviour
      out of my bosom.

Then I grieving my sad soul,
Regretting that I left Christ;
  O that I had not left my Friend,
  And let him from my affections go.

Joyful sin turned to pain,
In grief I sank lifelessly;
  But, my beloved Lord, bring again
  Comfort to me soon.

To my soul he comes surprisingly suddenly,
And the bonds of love he tightens;
  Mercy in his face there is,
  And in his hand a free pardon for me.

Truly a wretch I am, great was my fault,
Wandering after empty pleasures;
  Forever to thy cross bound I am,
  Before losing sight of thee any more.

Make ye haste, my days, to seek the goal,
For me to get rest forever
  On the focus of my living soul
  The breast of my dear
      Redeemer and my God.

Why is my heart so far from thee,
  My God, my chief delight?
Why are my thoughts no more by day
  With thee, no more by night?

Why should my foolish passions rove?
  Where can such sweetness be
As I have tasted in thy love,
  As I have found in thee?

When my forgetful soul renews
  The savour of thy grace,
My heart presumes I cannot lose
  The relish all my days.

But ere one fleeting hour is passed,
  The flatt'ring world employs
Some sensual bait
    to seize my taste,
  And to pollute my joys.

Trifles of nature or of art,
  With fair, deceitful charms,
Intrude into my thoughtless heart,
  And thrust me
      from thy arms.

Then I repent, and vex my soul
  That I should leave thee so:
Where will those wild affections roll
  That let a Saviour go?

Sin's promised joys are turned to pain,
  And I am drowned in grief;
But my dear Lord returns again,
  He flies to my relief.

Seizing my soul with sweet surprise,
  He draws with loving bands
Divine compassion in his eyes,
  And pardon in his hands.

Wretch that I am, to wander thus
  In chase of false delight!
Let me be fastened to thy cross,
  Rather than lose thy sight.

Make haste, my days, to reach the goal,
  And bring my heart to rest
On the dear center of my soul,
  My God, my
      Saviour's breast.