Yn hongian ar y Pren

Yn hongian ar y Pren
  Rhwng daer a ne' -
Mae'n dwyn y Groes ei Hun
  Yn fy lle.

Drain yw dy goron wael,
  Ofidus Un, -
Drosom tywelltir Gwaed
  Mab y Dyn.

Nid oes gobennydd i
  Ddal pwys dy ben,
A'th wely caled yw'r
  Erchyll Bren.

Dy ddwylo pur a'th draed
  Gan hoelion dur
A wenir; pwy eill ddweud
  Maint dy gur!

Cysgodion nos nesâ -
  Mae'r haul ynghydd,
Gan dduo'r ddaear cyn
  Darfod dydd.

Uchel dy chwerw gri -
  Crymodd dy ben -
Chwerw dy ingol born
  Ar y Pren.

Yr ysgrif uwch dy ben -
  Dy deitl yw -
"Iesu o Nazareth,"
  Gwir Fab Duw.

Beth yma, Geidwad cu,
  A welaist Ti,
I ddioddef angau'r Groes
  Drosof fi?

gwelir:
  Rhan I (Y Gofyniad) Yn ei wysg bur ei Hun
  Rhan II (Yr Ateb) Dilyn i Galfari
  Rhan IV (Yr Apêl o'r Groes) Blentyn fy ngwae a'm cur
  Rhan V (Ein Cri at Iesu) O fe'th ddilynaf mwy

Hanging on the Tree
  Between earth and heaven -
He is bearing the Cross Himself
  In my place.

Thorns are thy poor crown,
  Sorrowful One, -
For us the Blood is shed
  Of the Son of Man.

There is no pillow
  To hold the weight of thy head,
And thy hard bed is the
  Terrible Tree.

Thy pure hands and thy feet
  By steel nails
Are pierced; who can tell
  The extend of thy pain!
  
The shadows of night approach -
  The sun is covered,
Blackening the earth until
  Day dies away.

Loud thy bitter cry -
  Thy head bowed -
Bitter thy agonising pain
  On the Tree.

The inscriptions above thy head -
  Thy title is -
"Jesus of Nazareth,"
  The true Son of God.

What here, dear Saviour,
  Didst thou see,
To suffer the death of the Cross
  For me?

On the cross lifted
  Thy face we scan,
Bearing that cross for us,
  Son of Man.

Thorns form Thy diadem,
  Rough wood Thy throne;
For us Thy blood is shed,
  Us alone.

No pillow under Thee
  To rest Thy head;
Only the splintered cross
  Is Thy bed.

Nails pierced Thy hands and feet,
  Thy side the spear;
No voice is nigh to say
  Help is near.

Shadows of midnight fall,
  Though it is day:
Thy friends and kinfolk stand
  Far away.

Loud is Thy bitter cry;
  Sunk on Thy breast
Hangeth Thy bleeding head
  Without rest.

I see Thy title, Lord,
  Inscribed above;
"Jesus of Nazareth,"
  King of Love.

What, O my Saviour,
  Here didst Thou see,
Which made Thee suffer and
  Die for me?

see also:
  Part 1 (The Question) In His own raiment clad
  Part 2 (The Answer) Follow to Calvary
  Part 4 (The Appeal from the Cross) Child of my grief and pain
  Part 5 (The Resolve) O I will follow thee