Wrth edrych, Iesu, ar y groes
A meddwl dyfnder d'angeu loes
  Pryd hyn rwyf yn dibrisio'r byd
  Ar holl ogoniant sy ynddo'i gyd

N'ad im ymddiried tra bwyf byw
Ond yn dy angau di, fy Nuw;
  Dy boenau di a'th farwol glwy'
  Gaiff fod yn ymffrost imi mwy.

[Boed im' ymddiried trwy fy oes,
 Yn rhinwedd aberth
     mawr y groes;
   Dy boenau a dy farwol glwy'
   A fyddo'n ymffrost imi mwy.]

Gwelwch yn nwylaw 'Mhrynwr pur,
Ac yn ei draed ef, hoelion dur;
  Edrychwch ar y waewffon
  Yn tori'r archoll dan ei fron!

Dyma lle'r ydoedd ar brynhawn
Rasusau yn disgleirio'n llawn:
  Mil o rinweddau yn gytûn
  Yn prynu'r gwrthgiliedig ddyn.

Poen a llawenydd dan y loes,
Tristwch a chariad ar y groes;
  Ble bu rhinweddau fel y rhain
  Erioed o'r blaen dan goron ddrain?

Pa'm carai'r byd
    a'i dda yn hŵy?
On'd dyma wrthddrych llawer mwy,
  A dâl ei garu
      tra bo chwyth,
  A thragwyddoldeb wedi'n byth.

Myfi aberthaf er dy glod
Bob eilun sydd o dan y rhod,
  Ac wrth fyfyrio ar dy waed
  Fe gwymp pob delw dan fy nhraed.

efel. William Williams 1717-91

Wrth edrych Iesu ar dy grôes,
A meddwl dyfnder d'angeu loes;
  Pryd hyn 'rwyf yn dibrisio'r byd,
  A'r holl ogoniant sy ynddo i gyd.

Na âd fi 'mddiried tra b'wyf byw
Ond yn dy angeu di fy Nuw;
  Dy boenau a dy farwol glwy,
  Gaiff fod yn ymffrost i mi mwy.

O feiau mawr beth all'sech fwy
Na rhoddi i Frenin nefoedd glwy,
  Lladd'soch yr Oen, fe drodd y rhod,
  Mae dydd etch dial, chwi yn dod.

Edrychwch arno dyma'r Dyn, -
A phwy oedd ef ond Duw ei hun;
  Pechodau'r holl grediniol fyd,
  A bwysodd ar ei 'sgwyddau y'nghyd.

Tystiodd fy Nuw o ganol nef,
Ce's lawn foddlondeb ynddo ef;
  A bod ei saint
      o fawr i fân,
  Yn haeddiant Iesu oll yn lân.

'Does arnaf eisiau yn y byd,
Ond golwg ar dy haeddiant drud;
  A chael rhyw braw
      o'i nefol rin,
  I 'mado'n lân â mi fy hun.

'Rwi'n mofyn yn dy demi lân
Am gael dy weled fel o'r blaen;
  A bore wawr i d'wynu'n rhad
  O bur gynteddau
      tŷ fy Nhad.

Ennyned tân o gariad cu
Mewn cydsain â'r angylaidd lu;
  Na fyddo'm swydd
      ond hyfryd sôn,
  Am nefol rinwedd
      gwaed yr Oen.

Gwelir:
  Cod d'olwg f'enaid fynu fry
  Cyfyngder mwya'n Prynwr rhad
  Does arnaf eisiau yn y byd
  Fy enaid cwyd dy olwg fry
  Fy haeddiant mawr yn nghanol ne'
  Gwel ar Galfaria dyma'r dyn
  Mae f'enaid gwan yr awr am ddod
  Nid oes un gwrthddrych yn y byd
  O Arglwydd gad im' dy fwynhau
  O feiau mawr 'beth all'sech fwy?
  Pan adnabyddwyf iaith y wlad
  Pan b'wy'n golygu'r groes yn awr

While looking, Jesus, on the cross
And thinking deeply on thy deadly anguish
  Then do I disparage the world
  And all glory that is in it altogether.

Do not let me trust while I live
Except in thy death, my God;
  Thy pains and thy mortal wound
  Shall be henceforth the boast for me.

[Let me trust through out my lifespan,
 In the merit of the great
     sacrifice of the cross;
   Thy pains and thy mortal wound
   Shall be a boast for me evermore.]

Look, in the hands of my pure Redeemer,
And in his feet, nails of steel;
  Look on the spear
  Cutting the wound under his breast!

Here there were in the afternoon
Graces fully shining:
  A thousand wonders agreeing
  Redeeming the backslidden man.

Pain and joy under the anguish,
Sadness and love on the cross;
  Where were virtues like these
  Ever before under a crown of thorns?

Why would one love the world
    and its goods any longer?
Is there not here a much greater object,
  Which will hold his love
      while there be breath,
  And an eternity afterwards forever.

As for me, I will sacrifice for thy praise
Every idol which is from under the sky,
  And while meditating on thy blood
  Every image falls under my feet.

While looking, Jesus, on the cross
And thinking deeply on thy deadly anguish
  Then do I disparage the world
  And all glory that is in it altogether.

Do not let me trust while I live
Except in thy death, my God;
  Thy pains and thy mortal wound
  Shall be henceforth a boast for me.

O great faults what could ye more
Than give to the King of heaven a wound,
  Ye slew the Lamb, the sky turned,
  The day of your punishment is coming.

Look ye upon him, behold the Man, -
And who was he but God himself?
  The sins of the whole believing world,
  Weighed on his shoulders altogether.

My God testified from the centre of heaven,
That I got full satisfaction in him;
  And that his saints
      from great to small are,
  In the merit of Jesus, all clean.
  
I have no need in the world
But to look on thy precious merit;
  And to have some terror
    of its heavenly virtue,
  To depart from me myself completely.

I am asking in thy pure temple
To get to see thee like before;
  And a morning dawn to shine graciously
  From the pure courts
      of my Father's house.

Kindle a fire of dear love
In concert with the angelic host;
  That my job be only
      delightfully to sound,
  About the heavenly merit
      of the blood of the Lamb.

When I survey the wondrous cross
  On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
  And pour contempt on all my pride.



Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
  Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
  I sacrifice them to His blood.



See from His head, His hands, His feet,
  Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
  Or thorns compose so rich a crown?



His dying crimson,
    like a robe,
  Spreads o'er His body on the tree;
Then I am dead
    to all the globe,
  And all the globe is dead to me.



Were the whole realm of nature mine,
  That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
  Demands my soul, my life, my all.



To Christ, who won for sinners grace
  By bitter grief and anguish sore,
Be praise from all the ransomed race
  Forever and forevermore.

When I survey the wondrous cross
  On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
  And pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
  Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
  I sacrifice them to His blood.