Fe flinodd f'enaid bach yn nghri

Fe flinodd f'enaid bach yn nghri
  A dwndwr oer y byd;
Ond mae difyrwch llawer mwy
  Gaiff hollol lanw 'mryd.

Nid yw trysorau'r India bell,
  A chyfoeth maith Peru,
Ond rhyw ddisylwedd sorod gwael
  I'w pwyso â fy Nuw.

Mae yn ei heddwch bethau mwy
  Nag fedd y byd yn un;
A phrawf o'i gariad
    ydyw'r fraint
  Oruchaf gafodd dyn.

Fy nymuniadau maith eu rhif,
  Pe cawn hwy oll yn un,
Yw cael meddiannu ei nefol hedd,
  Anfeidrol, ddwyfol rîn.

Mi ymddigrifwn yn ei ras
  Mewn cystudd ac mewn gwae;
A byddwn lawen, doed a ddêl,
  Mewn sylwedd sy'n parhau.

gwelir: Nid yw trysorau'r India bell

My little soul was grieved by the cry
  And cold clamour of the world;
But it is a much greater delight
  That gets wholly to flood my mind.

The treasures of distant India,
  And the vast wealth of Peru are nothing,
But some poor, unsubstantial dross
  When weighed against my God.

In his peace are greater things
  Than the world possesses at all;
And an experience of his
    love is the supreme
  Privilege man ever got.

My wishes, vast their number,
  If I could have them all as one,
Are to get to possess his heavenly peace,
  Immeasurable, divine merit.

I would take delight in his grace
  In affliction and in woe;
And I would be joyful, come what may,
  In a substance that endures.