Deued pechaduriaid truain

Deued pechaduriaid truain,
  Yn finteioedd mawr y'nghyd,
Deued 'nysoedd pell y moroedd,
  I gael gwel'd dy ŵynebpryd;
Cloffion, deillion, gwywedigion,
  O bob enwau, o bob gradd,
I Galfaria un prydnawn-gwaith,
  Wel'd yr Oen sydd wedi'i ladd.

Dacw'r nefoedd fawr ei hunan,
  'Nawr yn dyoddef angeu loes,
Dacw obaith yr holl ddaear,
  Heddiw'n hongian ar y groes,
Dacw noddfa pechaduriaid,
  Dacw'r Meddyg,
      dacw'r fan,
Caf fi wella'r holl archollion,
  Dyfnion sy ar f'enaid gwan.

Dacw'r unig feddyginiaeth,
  Gadarn i druenus ddyn,
Mae pob gobaith wedi darfod,
  Maes ohono ef ei hun;
Trwm a llwythog yw fy meichiau,
  Poen euogrwydd sydd yn fawr,
Nid oes fan ond pen Calfaria,
  Galla'i ddodi mhen i lawr.

Doed y cystuddiedig truan,
  Sy' mewn ofnau bob rhyw awr,
Ac edryched ar y croesbren, 
  Pwy sy'n trengu arno i lawr;
Pa'm dychryna'r euog aflan
  Heibio aeth cymylau'r nen;
Dyma le i gladdu pechod
  Yn y beddrod tan y pren.

Mi nis gallaf wneyd fy hunan,
  Ddyddiau meithion ronyn gwell,
Pob egwyddor yn fy enaid,
  Beunydd sydd am fyn'd yn mhell;
Nid oes dim ond i ti faddeu,
  Gwneyd yr Ethiop du yn wyn,
Wna i'm henaid gofio'th angeu
  Poenus, ar Galfaria fryn.

gwelir: Iesu llawnder mawr y nefoedd

Let wretched sinners come,
  In great droves together,
Let the distant islands of the seas come,
  To get to see thy face;
Lame, blind, withered ones,
  Of every name, of every degree,
To Calvary one afternoon-time,
  To see the Lamb who was slain.

Yonder are the great heavens themselves,
  Now suffering the throes of death,
Yonder is the hope of all the earth,
  Today hanging on the cross,
Yonder the refuge of sinners,
  Yonder is the Physician,
      yonder is the place,
I can get to heal all my deep
  Wounds which are on my weak soul.

Yonder is the only medicine
  Strong for miserable man,
Every hope has vanished,
  Out of him himself;
Heavy and oppressive are his burdens,
  The pain of guilt is great,
There is no place but the head of Calvary,
  Where I can lay my head down.

Let the afflicted wretch come,
  Who is in fears every kind of hour,
And let him look on the wooden cross,
  Who is expiring upon it down;
why is the guilty, unclean horrified
  Past went the clouds of the sky;
Here is the place to bury sin
  In the tomb under the tree.

I myself cannot do,
  Extensive days a grain better,
Every principle in my soul,
  Daily which wants to go far;
There is nothing but for thee to forgive,
  To make the black Ethiopian white,
Make my soul remember thy painful
  Death, on Calvary hill.