Braint, braint
Yw cael cymdeithas gyda'r saint,
Na welodd neb erioed ei maint:
Ni ddaw un haint byth iddynt hwy;
Y mae'r gymdeithas yma'n gref,
Ond yn y nef hi fydd yn fwy.
Fe gān
Y waredigion, gawr a mān,
Dragwyddol glod i'w Prynwr glān:
Pan ddelo'r tān i losgi'r tir,
Cānt godi eu
pennau a llawenhau,
Eu poenus wae ā heibio'n wir.
Daeth drwy
Ein Iesu glān a'i farwol glwy'
Fendithion fyrdd, daw eto fwy:
Mae ynddo faith, ddiderfyn stōr;
Ni gawsom rai defnynnau i lawr,
Beth am yr awr cawn fynd i'r mōr?
Gwledd, gwledd
O fywyd a thragwyddol hedd
Sydd yn y byd tu draw i'r bedd:
Mor hardd fydd gwedd
y dyrfa i gyd
Sy'n byw ar haeddiant
gwaed yr Oen
O sŵn y boen
sy yn y byd.
Ni ddaw,
Na phoen na gofid, och, na braw,
I neb o'r saint yr ochr draw;
D'ont yn ei law
i'r hyfryd wlad,
I seinio cān dragfwyddol mwy,
Am farwol glwy,
ac am y gwaed.
Byw, byw
Yw'r Iesu'm Ffrynd a'm Prynwr gwiw,
Er iddo gynt gael marwol friw;
A sicr yw mai byw wna'r saint,
O herwydd fod eu Ceidwad cu
Yn eiriol fry; rhyfeddol fraint.
Daeth drwy :: Daeth trwy Ein Iesu glān :: Fy Iesu glān :: Yr Iesu glān Mor hardd :: Ond hardd
1 : 1767 John Roberts (Siōn Robert Lewis) 1731-1806
Tonau [288.888]:
gwelir: |
A privilege, a privilege
To have fellowship with the saints,
Whose number no-one ever saw before:
Not one disease will ever come upon them;
The fellowship here is strong,
But in heaven it will be more so.
Shall sing
The delivered, great and small,
Eternal praise to their holy Redeemer:
When the fire comes to burn the land,
They will get to lift their
heads and rejoice,
Their painful woe will truly pass away.
He came through
Did our holy Jesus with his mortal wound
Of a myriad blessings, still more will come;
In him are many, an endless store;
We received not a few droplets below,
What about the hour we can go to the sea?
A feast, a feast
Of life and eternal peace
Which is in the world beyond the grave:
How beautiful will be
the aspect of the whole host
Who are living by the merit
of the blood of the Lamb
From the sound of the grief
that is in the world.
There will not come,
Either pain or worry, groan, or alarm,
To any of the saints on the far side;
They shall come by his hand
to the delightful land,
To sound a song for evermore,
About the mortal wound,
and about the blood.
Alive, alive
Is Jesus my Friend and my worthy Redeemer,
Although he received a mortal wound;
And sure it is that the saints shall live,
Because their dear Saviour is
Interceding above; a wonderful privilege.
:: our holy Jesus :: my holy Jesus :: the holy Jesus How beautiful :: But beautiful tr. 2008,23 Richard B Gillion |
To know
The saints' communion here below,
The fountain whence heaven's riches flow,
Gives purer glow than earthly love;
The sweet communion here is blest,
But far the best in heaven above.
There flowed
Through Jesus and His precious blood
Rich blessings that were shed abroad,
An endless store for you and me:
Some drops we've had, refreshing shower!
What of the hour we'll reach the sea?
tr. E Arthur Jones
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