Ein nerth a'n cadarn dŵr yw Duw,
Ein tarian a'n harfogaeth;
O ing a thrallod o bob rhyw
Rhydd gyflawn waredigaeth.
Archelyn dyn a Duw
Llawn o gynddaredd yw,
Ei lid a'i ddichell gref
Yw ei arfogaeth ef;
Digymar yw'r anturiaeth.
Ni ellir dim o allu dyn:
Mewn siomiant blin mae'n diffodd;
Ond drosom ni mae'r addas Un,
A Duw ei hun a'i trefnodd.
"Pwy yw?" medd calon drist:
Ein Ceidwad Iesu Grist,
Tywysog lluoedd nef,
Ac nid oes Duw ond ef;
Y maes erioed ni chollodd.
- - - - -
1,2,(3,4).
Ein nerth a'n Cadarn Dŵr yw Duw,
Ein tarian a'n harfogaeth;
O ing a thrallod o bob rhyw
Rhydd gyflawn waredigaeth.
Gelyn dyn a Duw
Llawn cynddaredd yw,
Gallu_a ddichell gref
Y'nt arfogaeth ef;
Digymar yw'r anturiaeth.
Gw&aagrave;n lewyrch ddaw o allu dyn;
Mewn siomiant blin mae'n diffodd;
Ond drosom ni mae'r addas Un,
A Duw ei hun a'i trefnodd.
Pwy? medd calon drist:
Neb ond Iesu Grist,
Arglwydd lluoedd nef,
Ac nid oes Duw ond ef;
Y maes erioed ni chollodd.
Pe'r byd yn ddieifl fel uffern ddofn,
Yn gwylied i'n traflyncu,
Ni rhoddwn le i fraw nac ofn:
Mae'n rhaid i ni orchfygu.
Brenin gau y byd
Er mor ddewr ei frŷd,
Ni wna ddim i ni;
Fe'i barnwyd, er ei fri,
Un gair a'i gŷr i grỳnu.
Y gair a saif;
a llwyddo raid
Er t'w'lled mae'n ymddangos;
Efe a'i Yspryd sydd o'n plaid,
A'r goncwest sydd yn agos;
Bywyd rho'wn yn rhydd,
Gwraig a phlant 'r un dydd;
Ymaith os ânt hwy,
Ni a enillwn fwy;
Mae teyrnas Dduw yn aros.
cyf. Lewis Edwards 1809-1887
Tôn: Ein Cadarn Dŵr (Ein' Feste Burg) gwelir: Ein cadarn Dŵr yw Duw a'i rad |
Our strength and our firm tower is God,
Our shield and our armour;
From anguish and tribulation of every kind
He will bestow complete deliverance.
The archenemy of man and God
Full of fury is,
His anger and his strong guile
Is his armour;
Unequalled is his venture.
Nothing is possible from the might of man:
In weary disappointment it extinguishes;
But for us there is the fitting One,
Whom God himself has provided.
"Who is it?" says a sad heart:
Our Saviour Jesus Christ,
Prince of the hosts of heaven,
And there is no God but he;
The field he never lost.
- - - - -
Our strength and our Firm Tower is God,
Our shield and our weaponry;
From anguish and tribulation of every kind
He gives full deliverance.
The enemy of man and God
Full of wrath is,
Ability and strong deception
They are his weaponry;
Unequal is the venture.
A weak gleam comes from man's ability;
In weary disappointment it extinguishes;
But for us there is the worthy One,
Whom God himself has ordained.
Who? says a sad heart:
None but Jesus Christ,
The Lord of the hosts of heaven,
And there is no God but he;
The field he never lost.
If the world were devils like deep hell,
Watching to swallow us,
We would not give way to terror or fear:
We are bound to overcome.
The false king of the world
Although so bold his intent,
Will do nothing to us;
He is judged, despite his renown,
One word shall drive him to tremble.
The word shall stand;
and there must be success
Despite how dark it appears;
He and his Spirit are on our side,
And the conquest is near;
A life let us give freely,
Wife and children on the same day;
Away if they should go,
We shall win more;
The kingdom of God is remaining.
tr. 2009 Richard B Gillion
|
A safe stronghold our God is still,
A trusty shield and weapon;
He'll help us clear from all the ill
That hath us now o'ertaken.
The ancient prince of Hell
Hath risen with purpose fell;
Strong mail of craft and power
He weareth in this hour;
On earth is not his fellow.
With force of arms we nothing can,
Full soon were we down-ridden;
But for us fights the proper Man,
Whom God Himself hath bidden.
Ask ye, "Who is this same?"
Christ Jesus is His Name,
The Lord Sabaoth's Son;
He, and no other one,
Shall conquer in the battle.
- - - - -
A safe stronghold our God is still,
A trusty shield and weapon;
He'll help us clear from all the ill
That hath us now o'ertaken.
The ancient prince of Hell
Hath risen with purpose fell;
Strong mail of craft and power
He weareth in this hour;
On earth is not his fellow.
With force of arms we nothing can,
Full soon were we down-ridden;
But for us fights the proper Man,
Whom God Himself hath bidden.
Ask ye, "Who is this same?"
Christ Jesus is His Name,
The Lord Sabaoth's Son;
He, and no other one,
Shall conquer in the battle.
And were this world all devils o'er,
And watching to devour us,
We lay it not to heart so sore;
Not they can overpower us.
And let the prince of ill
Look grim as e'er he will,
He harms us not a whit;
For why? — his doom is writ;
A word shall quickly slay him.
God's Word,
for all their craft and force,
One moment will not linger,
But, spite of hell, shall have its course;
'Tis written by His finger.
And though they take our life,
Goods, honour, children, wife,
Yet is their profit small;
These things shall vanish all:
The City of God remaineth!
tr. 1831 Thomas Carlyle 1795-1881
from the German:
Tune: Ein' Feste Burg (Martin Luther 1483-1546) |