Duw pa fath adyn ffol [fum i / y fum]

Duw pa fath adyn ffol y fum,
Galaru a grwgnach yn fy ngwyn;
  Wel'd dynion drwg yn dringo o hyd
  Mewn parch a balchder yn y byd!

[Duw pa fath adyn ffol fum i,
 A methu d'allt dy drefn di;
   Wel'd dynion drwg yn dringo o hyd,
   Mewn parch a balchder yn y byd!]

Ond O! eu diwedd erchyll yw,
Mi ddysgais hyn yn nhŷ fy Nuw:
  Ar greigiau llithrig
      maent heb fraw,
  A thonnau tanllyd îs eu llaw.

Eu huchel godiad bostient hwy,
Ni chenfigena'i mo'nynt mwy:
  Er maint eu ffrost,
      er cuwch eu ffroen,
  Disgynant i'r trag'wyddol boen.

Eu rhith lawenydd, chwyrn mae'n ffoi,
Fel breuddwyd dyn pan fo'n deffroi;
  'Dyw per ganiadau'r cyfryw rai,
  Ond rhagymadrodd cyn eu gwae.

Mae'u gwîn a'u gwenydd hwy'n rhy bryd,
I'm eu pwrcasu â'm henaid byth!
  Dy feddu, Arglwydd, digon yw,
  Fy rhan, fy mywyd wyt a'm Duw.

gwelir: Na foed i mi O Arglwydd Dduw

God, what a foolish scoundrel I was,
Lamenting and grumbling in my complaint;	
  Seeing evil men climbing always
  In honour and pride in the world!

[God what a foolish scoundrel I was,
 And failing to understand thy plan;
    Seeing evil men climbing always
    In honour and pride in the world!]

But Oh, their end is horrible,
I learned this in the house of my God:
  On slippery rocks
      they are without terror,
  With fiery waves below their hand.

They high exaltation they would boast,
I shall envy them no more:
  Despite their boast,
      despite how haughty they are,
  They shall descend to the eternal pain.

Their illusory joy, swiftly it flees,
Like a man's dream when he awakes;
  The sweet songs of such people are
  Only a preface before their woe.

Their wine and their wheat is too dear,
For me ever to purchase them with my soul!
  To posses thee, Lord, is sufficient,
  My portion, my life thou art and my God.

Lord, what a thoughtless wretch was I,
To mourn, and murmur, and repine
  To see the wicked placed on high,
  In pride and robes of honour shine!

[Lord, what a thoughtless wretch was I,
 To mourn, and murmur, and repine
   To see the wicked placed on high,
   In pride and robes of honour shine!]

But, oh, their end, their dreadful end!
Thy sanctuary taught me so;
  On slipp'ry rocks
      I see them stand,
  And fiery billows roll below.

Now let them boast how tall they rise,
I'll never envy them again;
  There they may stand
      with haughty eyes,
  Till they plunge deep in endless pain.

Their fancied joys, how fast they flee!
Like dreams, as fleeting and as vain,
  Their songs of softest harmony
  Are but a prelude to their pain.

Now I esteem their mirth and wine
Too dear to purchase with my blood;
  Lord, ’tis enough that Thou art mine,
  My life, my portion and my God.