Pechod gwreiddiol a gweithredol yn cael ei gyfaddef) Duw tanna 'i mlinder yn dy ŵydd, A'm trwm euogrwydd hefyd, Yn erbyn deddfau Duw a'i ras, Fy mhechod cas a gyfyd. Pe i uffern tröid fy enaid tlawd, A'm cnawd i'r llwch ar wasgar: Y nef i'th farn boddloni wnai, A'i chyfiawnâu wnai'r ddaear. Daethum o lwynau Adda'n wan, Mewn cyflwr aflan budr, G'wilydd yw nechreu i gyd, O Dduw, A phechod yw'm holl natur. Mewn byd o ddrwg fy ngeni ces, A'r llwgr a dynais innau, Ac fel wy'n myn'd mewn oed yn fwy Cyfiawnach wy'i o angeu. Golch fi, O Dduw, a llawenâ Fy enaid â'th drugaredd; Iachà fy ysbryd drylliog gwael, Dod i mi'th hael orfoledd. Na lwyr adawed d'Ysbryd fi, Na chudd oleuni d'wyneb; Fy nghalon ddrwg yn newydd gwna, A llanw'i a'th rasoldeb. A'th rad drugaredd traetha'i 'n llon O flaen plant dynion etto: Gwrthgilwyr ceisio Duw a wnant, Ac a ddychwelant ato.
Dafydd Jones 1711-77 [Mesur: MS 8787]
gwelir: |
Original and actual sin being confessed) God, I am laying out my distress in thy presence, And my heavy guilt also, Against God's law and his grace, My detestable sin arises. I my poor soul were turned to hell, And my flesh to the dust dispersed: Heaven with thy judgment would be satisfied, And the earth would be justified. I came from the loins of weak Adam, In a state of unclean filthiness, Shame is my beginning altogether, O God, And sin is all my nature. In a world of evil I got my birth, And the corruption I drew to myself, And the older I go on to get The more deserving I am of death. Wash me, O God, and my soul Shall rejoice with thy mercy; Heal my poor, broken spirit, Give to me thy generous jubilation. Let not thy Spirit completely leave me, Nor hide the light of thy face; My wicked heart make new, And fill me with thy graciousness. And thy gracious mercy I shall expound cheerfully Before the children of men again: Backsliders shall seek God, And they shall return to him. tr. 2021 Richard B Gillion |
Original and actual sin confessed and pardoned.) Lord, I would spread my sore distress And guilt before thine eyes; Against thy laws, against thy grace, How high my crimes arise. Shouldst thou condemn my soul to hell, And crush my flesh to dust, Heaven would approve thy vengeance well, And earth must own it just. I from the stock of Adam came, Unholy and unclean; All my original is shame, And all my nature sin. Born in a world of guilt, I drew Contagion with my breath; And, as my days advanc'd, I grew A juster prey for death. Cleanse me, O Lord, and cheer my soul With thy forgiving love; O, make my broken spirit whole, And bid my pains remove. Let not thy Spirit quite depart, Nor drive me from thy face; Create anew my vicious heart, And fill it with thy grace. Then will I make thy mercy known Before the sons of men; Backsliders shall address thy throne, And turn to God again.
Isaac Watts 1674-1748 Tune [MC 8686]: Windsor (Christopher Tye c.1505-73) |