O na bai cystuddiau f'Arglwydd
Yn fy nghalon yn cael lle,
Pob rhyw loes,
a phob rhyw ddolur,
Pob rhyw fflangell gafodd E';
Fel bo i'm pechod
Ildio'r dydd a mynd i maes.
Ti dy Hunan yno'n Frenin,
Ti dy Hunan yno'n Dduw,
D'eiriau d'Hunan yno'n uchaff
D'eiriau gwerthfawroca'u rhyw;
Ti wnei felly
Bydew du yn demel lân.
Yna gwna dy drigfan hyfrydd
Trigfan croeshoeliedig Oen,
Ac na chilia i maes oddi yno
Tra bo anadl yn fy ffroen,
Rhag i'm pechod
Ffiaidd geisio dod yn ôl.
O! sgrifenna'n eglur, eglur,
Mewn llythrennau llawn i gyd,
Bob rhyw sillaf bach o'th gyfraith
Ar fy mynwes yma 'nghyd,
Nac anghofiwyf
Fyth dy eiriau mawr eu pris.
Gwaed sgrifennodd ar y croesbren
Gariad nerthol, dwyfol, rhad;
Ni sgrifennir ar fy nghalon
Fyth dy eiriau ond â gwaed;
Dyma'r sgrifen
Bery'n hwy
nag 'paro'r byd.
bo i'm pechod :: bai 'mhechod D'eiriau :: Dy eiriau gwerthfawroca'u rhyw :: gwerthfawrocaf rhyw wnei :: wnâi Nac anghofiwyf :: Fe na anghofiwyf - - - - -
(Cymdeithas ei ddyoddefiadau ef. Phil.iii.10)
O na ba'i cystuddiau f'Arglwydd,
Yn fy nghalon i gael lle,
Pob rhyw loes
a phob rhyw ddolur,
Pob rhyw fflangell gafodd ê;
Fel ba'i mhechod,
Ildio'r dydd a myn'd i maes.
O na byddai oriau mywyd,
Yn ymborthi ar oriau'th boen,
Fel y gallwyf fi gyd redeg,
A chystuddiau'r addfwyn Oen;
Fe gai mhechod,
Felly'n fuan golli'r dydd.
O cyfeiria Di fy llygaid
I gael gwel'd y cariad llawn
Lifodd allan fel y moroedd
Ar Galfaria un prydnawn;
Gwel'd dy glwyfau
Yw hyfrydwch penaf f'oes.
Arnat Iesu boed fy meddwl,
Am dy gariad boed fy nghân,
Dyged sŵn dy ddyoddefiadau,
Fy serchiadau oll yn lân;
Mae dy gariad,
Uwch y clywodd neb erioed.
Golchi du gydwybod aflan,
Yn wynnach nag yw'r eira mân;
Gwneud y brwnt gan-waith ddifwynodd
Yn y domen fel y gwlân:
Pwy all fesur,
Led a dyfnder maith dy ras.
Pechod yma, cariad accw,
Unwaith fu yn y clorian mawr,
Ac er trymed oedd y pechod,
Gariad bwysodd hyd y llawr:
Y gair Gorphenwyd,
Wnaeth i'r clorian pwysfawr droi.
Fe ddyoddefodd angeu creulon,
Poenus chwerwaf
angeu'r groes;
Ac fe gonc'rodd luoedd uffern,
Trwy ei ddwyfol farwol loes;
'N awr gorphenwyd,
Iachawdwriaeth ddaeth i mi.
Iesu nid oes terfyn arnat,
Mae cyflawnder mawr dy ras,
Yn fwy helaeth, yn fwy dwfwn,
Ganwaith nag yw'mhechod cas;
Byth yn anwyl,
Meibion dynion mwy a'th gâr.
Tonau [878747]: gwelir: Arnat Iesu boed fy meddwl Cariad Crist a phechod Sion Ffordd nid oes o waredigaeth Iesu nid oes terfyn arnat O na byddai oriau 'mywyd O 'sgrifena'n eglur eglur |
O that my Lord's afflictions would
In my heart get a place,
Every kind of anguish,
and every kind of sadness,
Every kind of scourge He got;
That my sins might
Yield the day and go out.
Thou thyself there as King,
Thou thyself there as God,
Thy own words there supreme
Thy words of a most valuable kind;
Thou wilt thus make
A black, miry pit into a holy temple.
There make thy delightful dwelling
The dwelling of the crucified Lamb,
And do not retreat from there
While there is breath in my nostril,
Lest my detestable
Sins try to come back.
O write clearly, clearly,
In letters all full,
Every little syllable of thy law
On my breast here altogether,
I will not forget
Ever thy words of great price.
Blood wrote on the wooden cross
strong, divine, gracious love;
Not to be written on my heart
Ever are thy words but with blood;
Behold the writing
Will persist longer
than the world will endure.
:: :: :: thou wilt ... make :: thou wouldst ... make :: - - - - -
(The fellowship of his sufferings. Phil.3:10)
O that my Lord's afflictions would
In my heart get a place,
Every kind of anguish,
and every kind of sadness,
Every kind of scourge He got;
That my sins might
Yield the day and go out.
O that the hours of my life would,
Nourish itself on the hours of thy pain,
That I may run together
With the afflictions of the gentle Lamb;
My sins would
Thus soon lose the day.
O direct Thou my eyes
To get to see the full love
Which streamed out like the seas
On Calvary one afternoon;
To see thy wounds
Is the chief delight of my lifespan.
Upon thee, Jesus, be my thoughts,
About thy love be my song;
May the sound of thy sufferings take
All my affections completely:
Thy love is
Higher than anyone ever heard.
Wash the unclean, black conscience,
Whiter than the fine snow;
Make the dirty, hundred-times-defiled
In the muck-heap, like the wool:
Who can measure,
The breadth and vast depth of thy grace?
Sin here, love there,
Once were in the great scales,
And despite how heavy was the sin,
Love weighed down to the ground:
The word "Finished",
Made the scales weightily turn.
He suffered cruel death,
The painful, most bitter
death of the cross;
And he conquered the hosts of hell,
Through his divine mortal throes;
Now is finished,
The salvation that came to me.
Jesus, there is no end to thee
The extensive justice of thy grace is
More plenteous, deeper
A hundredfold than is my hated sin:
Ever dear
Sons of men will evermore love thee.
tr. 2011 Richard B Gillion |
- - - - -
Jesus, may I think upon thee,
Let my song be of thy love;
And the story of thy passion
Turn my thoughts to realms above.
Ear has never
Heard of greater love than thine.
tr. M J H Ellis (Monti)
Tune [878747]: |