Anweledig rwy'n dy garu

8,7,8,7,8,7,8,7

Though unseen, O Lord, I love Thee,

Wondrous is thy saving might,

Thus to wean my soul so sweetly

From its sinful chief delight:

More Thou didst in one short instant

Than a world could e'er have done,

Winning Thee a happy dwelling

In this sterile heart of stone.