Awn at ei orsedd rasol ef

Awn at ei orsedd rasol ef,
  Dyrchafwn lef i'r lan;
Mae'n gwrando pob amddifad gri,
  Mae'n rhoddi nerth i'r gwan.

Anadla, f'enaid llesg, drwy ffydd,
  Mae'r ffordd yn rhydd at Dduw;
Mae gras yn gymorth hawdd ei gael,
  A modd i'r gwael gael byw.

Gerbron y drugareddfa lân
  Fe gân yr euog rai;
Mae iachawdwriaeth Calfari
  Yn golchi pob rhyw fai.

O flaen yr orsedd troir y nos,
  Trwy'r groes, yn oleu ddydd;
Ni ddichon gallu uffern ddal
  Nac attal gweddi'r ffydd.

Ehêd â'i golwg ar y gwaed,
  Clyw'r Arglwydd Ior ei chri;
Nid oes a saif o'i blaen pan wel
  Farwolaeth Calfari.

Let us go to his gracious throne,
  Let us raise a cry up;
He is hearing every despairing cry,
  He is giving strength to the weak.

Breathe, my faint soul, through faith!
  The way is free to God;
Grace is a support easy to get,
  And a means for the wretched to get to live.

Before the holy mercy-seat
  Sing the guilty ones;
The salvation of Calvary is
  Washing every kind of fault.

Before the throne is turned the night,
  Through the cross, into the light of day;
Not sufficiently able is hell to hold
  Nor halt the prayer of the faith.

It flies with its sight on the blood,
  The Sovereign Lord hears his cry;
There is nothing stands before him when he sees
  The death of Calvary.