Er fy nghlwyfo gan fy mhechod

Er fy nghlwyfo gan fy mhechod,
  A fy nghadael yn fy mriw,
Anffaeledig Feddyg parod
  Ydwyt Ti, fy Iesu gwiw;
Llif o fywyd yw Dy eiriau,
  Heulwen bywyd yw Dy wedd;
Yn Dy wyddfod ni all angau
  Gadw'r maen ar ddrws y bedd.

O! Samariad, tyred heibio,
  Paid ā throi Dy wyneb draw;
Gād i druan clwyfus deimlo
  Fod ymgeledd yn Dy law;
Gwag yw'r byd o gydymdeimlad,
  Ac ni wrendy ar fy nghri;
Unig obaith yr amddifad,
  Feddyg enaid, ydwyt Ti.

Ti berffeithiwyd yn Dywysog
  Ichawdwriaeth er fy mwyn,
Yn Dy fynwes fawr drugarog
  Y mae balm i leddfu 'nghwyn;
'Rwyt yn deall fy noluriau,
  Gelli wella'r dyfnaf un;
Aeth y cleddyf a'i ofidiau
  Drwy Dy galon Di Dy Hun.

Although being wounded by my sin,
  Has left me in my hurt,
An unfailing ready Physician
  Art thou, my worthy Jesus;
A stream of life are thy words,
  The sunshine of life is thy countenance;
In thy presence death cannot
  Keep the stone over the grave's door.

O Samaritan, come by,
  Do not turn thy face away;
Let the wounded wretch feel
  That there is help in thy hand;
Empty of sympathy is the world,
  And it does not listen to my cry;
The only hope of the destitute,
  A soul's Physician, art thou.

Thou wast perfected as a Prince
  Of salvation for my sake,
In thy great merciful bosom
  Is balm to relieve my complaint;
Thou dost understand my sorrows,
  Thou canst heal the deepest one;
The sword and its griefs went
  Through thy own heart.