|
1,2,(3,(4)); 1,2,6,7,(8); 1,[3a+4b]; 1,5,6,7; 1,8.
Cofia, f'enaid, cyn it' dreulio
D'oriau gwerthfawr yn y byd,
Cyn it' 'hedeg oddi yma,
P'un a gest ti'r trysor drud!
Yn mha ardal bydd dy lety,
Fath pryd hyny
fydd dy wedd;
P'un ai llawen ai cystuddiol
Fyddi'r ochor
draw i'r bedd.
Pan bo'r lygaid yma yn t'wyllo,
Yn eu pyllau llechu lawr,
Troi oddi amgylch wrth ymdrechu
A galluoedd angau mawr,
P'odd dioddefaf y fath gystudd?
Pwy adfera'r colled hyn?
Oni chaf guddio 'mhen y'nglwyfau,
'R Oen fu ar Galfaria fryn.
Iesu hawddgar 'rwy'n dy ddewis,
Nerth i ddilyn ol dy droed!
Yna caiff fy enaid 'hedeg
I'r happusrwydd uwch y rhod:
Tra fo'm pridd yn myn'd i ymgymmysg,
A'r hyn wnathpwyd ef ryw bryd,
Llewyrch wyneb Duw ddysgleiria
Ranau f'enaid oll i gyd.
Wedi'm golchi oddiwrth sorod
Pechod ffiaidd drwg ei ryw,
Fel drych goleu
i dderbyn delw
Holl sancteiddrwydd pur fy Nuw;
Ni rhaid teithio'r daear mwyach,
Ym mhlith pryfed gwael y llawr,
Ond dysgleirio 'mhlith myrddiynau
'Gylch yr orsedd fel y wawr.
O gyfiawnder pur trag'wyddol,
O gyfiawnder maith didrai!
Rhaid i'm henaid noeth newynllyd,
Gael yn fuan dy fwynâu;
Rho dy wisg ddysgleirwen oleu,
Cuddia'm noethni hyd y llawr,
Fel nad ofnwyf mwy ymddangos,
Byth o flaen dy orsedd fawr.
O anialwch maith o dd'rysni,
O afonydd mawr ei grym,
Pa faint o amser roddwyd i chwi
Fod yn ddigalondid im'?
Derfydd t'wy'llwch, derfydd galar,
Derfydd pechod o bob rhyw:
Nid yw'r wlad câf ynddi drigo,
Ddim ond presenoldeb Duw.
Duw yn unig sydd o'm hochr,
Ni thal dynion i mi ddim,
Llawer trymmach ydyw 'Meichiau,
Nag yw cawri'r
byd o rym:
Iesu ddeil fy maich er cymmaint,
Iesu ei hunan laesa'm loes;
Eitha' llid y nef ac uffern,
Ddioddefodd unwaith ar y groes.
Mae nghyfeillion wedi myned
Draw yn lluoedd o fy mlaen,
A fu'n teithio dyffryn Baca
Gyda mi i Salem lân:
Yn y dyffryn tywyll, garw,
Ffydd i'r lan a'u daliodd hwy;
Mae'r addewid lawn i minau,
Pam yr ofna f'enaid mwy?
- - - - -
Cofia, f'enaid, cyn it' dreulio
D'oriau gwerthfawr yn y byd,
Cyn it' 'hedeg ffyrdd oddiyma,
P'un a gêst ti'r trysor drud!
Yn mha ardal bydd dy lety?
Fath pryd hyny
fydd dy wedd?
P'un ai llawen ai cystuddiol
Fyddi'r ochor
draw i'r bedd?
O ynfydrwydd! O ffolineb!
Im' erioed i roi fy mryd,
Ar un tegan, ar un gwrthrych,
Welais eto yn y byd!
Mae y byd yn myned heibio,
A'i deganau o bob rhyw;
Dan y nef ni thâl ei garu
Wrthrych arall ond fy Nuw!
oddi yma :: ffyrdd oddiyma :: draw oddi_yma P'un a gest ti'r :: Pa un a ge'st y Yn mha :: Y'mha dy lletty :: fy lletty dy wedd : fy ngwedd Fyddi :: Fydda :: Fyddai Fyddi'r ochor draw :: Fyddi y tu draw t'wyllo :: t'wyllu :: twylla pyllau llechu :: pyllau'n llechu Tra fo'm pridd :: Pan fo'm corph
Tôn [8787D]:
gwelir: |
Remember, my soul, before thou spend
Thy valuable hours in the world,
Before thou fly from here,
Whether thou hast gotten costly treasure!
In what region will be thy lodging,
Of what kind at that time
will be thy condition;
Whether joyous or afflicted
Shalt thou be on the
far side of the grave?
When the eyes here darken,
In their sockets lurking down,
Turn from surroundings while struggling
With the powers of great death,
How will I suffer such affliction?
Who will restore this loss?
Unless I can hide my head in the wounds
Of the Lamb who was on Calvary hill.
Beautiful Jesus, I am choosing thee,
Strength to follow the marks of thy feet!
There my soul will get to fly
To the happiness above the sky:
While my soil be going to mix,
With that which he made some time,
The radiance of God's face shall shine on
Every part of my soul.
Having been washed from my dross
Detestable sin of an evil kind
Like an object of light
to receive the image
Of all the pure holiness of my God;
No need to travel the earth any more,
Amongst the base worms of the earth,
But to shine amongst myriads
Around the throne like the dawn.
O pure, eternal righteousness,
O unebbing, vast righteousness!
My naked, starving soul must,
Soon get to possess thee;
Impart thy shining clothing of light,
Cover my nakedness down to the ground,
Thus may I fear no more to appear,
Ever before thy great throne.
O ye vast desert of confusion,
O ye rivers of great force,
How much time is given to you
To be disheartening to me?
Darkness will vanish, sorrow will vanish,
Sin of every kind will vanish:
Nor is the land I will get to dwell in,
Aught but the presence of God.
God alone is on my side,
Men are not worth anything to me,
Much weightier is my Surety,
Than are the giants of the
world in force:
Jesus will keep my surety despite so much,
Jesus himself will relieve my anguish;
The extreme anger of heaven and hell,
He suffered once on the cross.
My friends have gone
Yonder in multitudes before me,
Who have travelled the vale of Baca
With me to holy Salem:
In the dark, rough valley,
It is faith which kept them up;
The full promise is to me,
Why does my soul fear any more?
- - - - -
Remember, my soul, before thou spend
Thy valuable hours in the world,
Before thou fly from here,
Whether thou hast gotten costly treasure!
In what region will be thy lodging?
Of what kind at that time
will be thy condition?
Which one, either joyous or afflicted
Shalt thou be on the
far side of the grave?
O madness! O folly!
For me to set my affection
On any trinket, on any object,
I have seen yet in the world!
The world is passing,
And its trinkets of every kind;
Under heaven is not worth loving
Another object but my God!
away from here :: a way from here :: far away from here :: :: thy lodging :: my lodging thy condition :: my condition Shallt thou be :: Shall I be :: Shall it be :: :: :: :: While my soil :: When my body tr. 2009,15 Richard B Gillion |
Heedless Soul of mine, bethink thee
Ere thine hours on earth are past, -
Ere thou fly to spirit-regions,
If thou real treasure hast.
Where will be thine endless dwelling?
Where thine
everlasting home?
What thy portion, joy or mourning,
In the world
beyond the tomb?
When these eyes shall lose their lustre, -
Fading with the failing breath,
And roll, lightless, in the conflict,
With inexorable Death;
How wilt thou survive the anguish -
How sustain all earthly loss,
If thou know not the Redeemer,
If thou cling not to his cross?
- - - - -
Heedless Soul of mine, bethink thee
Ere thine hours on earth are past, -
Ere thou fly to spirit-regions,
If thou real treasure hast.
Where will be thine endless dwelling?
Where thine
everlasting home?
What thy portion, joy or mourning,
In the world
beyond the tomb?
O the weakness, O the folly,
That my heart did e'er entwine
Round a joy, or hope, or promise,
Vain, unstable World, of thine!
Thou with all thy proffered treasure
Shalt ere long from me remove:-
Turn, fond heart, with holy rapture,
Unto God thy trust and love.
tr. Joseph Morris |
