Fy enaid nac an(n)ghofia groes

Fy enaid, nac anghofia groes,
Anhraethol ing, a phoen, a loes,
  Yr Oen difeius pur:
Tan wg y byd,
    ac uffern gref,
A dwys ofynion llawn y nef,
  Mor ddwfn a dwys ei gur!

Y Cyfiawn aeth tan
    bwys y bai,
Yn lle'r anghyfiawn, euog rai,
  Yn lle ei elyn cas!
I'm dwyn i fod a Daw yn un,
Er mor anhawddgar oedd fy llun,
  O rym ei ryfedd ras!

Fy enaid, cofia'r gwpan ddwys,
Digllonedd nef mewn grym a phwys,
  Y gwpan yfodd E':
Mewn ing tàn faich
    annhraethol fawr,
A'i waed yn llifo hyd y llawr,
  Dyoddefodd yn fy lle.

Fy enaid, cofia Galfari,
A'r Iesu'n dwyn dy fendith di,
  Yn ddiddig ar y pren:
I ddwyn it' fendith lawn a hedd,
Bu ar y groes, bu yn y bedd,
  O, câr ef byth.

            - - - - -

Fy enaid, nac annghofia groes,
Annhraethol ing, a phoen, a loes,
  Yr Oen difeius, pur;
Tan wg y byd
    ac uffern gref,
A dwys ofynion llawn y nef,
  Mor ddwfn a dwys ei gur!

Y Ceidwad cu condemnio wnaen',
Llofruddion lu a ddaeth yn mlaen,
  A geirwon hoelion dur;
O dan y pwys,
    er maint y poen,
Distewi wnaeth fel addfwyn Oen:
  O! f'enaid cofia'i gur.

Trywanwyd, do, fy Mhrynwr rhad,
Nes daeth o'i galon ddwr a gwaed,
  Yn ffrwd fel afon bur;
Oedd ar y llawr i'w wel'd yn llyn,
Yn frwd ar ben Calfaria fryn:
  O f'enaid cofia'i gur.

Dros f'enaid i bu'r addfwyn Oen
Fel hyn yn dyoddef dirfawr boen,
  I'm gwneyd yn rhydd yn wir:
'Roedd yn ei fryd orphenu'r gwaith
O eithaf tragwyddoldeb maith:
  Cân f'enaid am ei gur.

gwelir:
  O boed fy nghalon oll ar dân
  O deffro gwel fy enaid trist
  Trywanwyd do fy Mhrynwr rhad
  Y ddaear fud ro'i meirw'n fyw
  Yn Eden cofiaf hynny byth

My soul, do not forget the cross,
Inexpressible agony, pain and anguish,
  Of the pure, faultless Lamb:
Under the frown of the world,
    and strong hell,
And the intense, full demands of heaven,
  How deep and intense his stroke!

The Righteous went under
    the weight of the fault,
In place of the unrighteous, guilty ones,
  In place of his detestable enemies!
To bring me to be with God as one,
Although so ugly was the sight of me,
  From the force of his wonderful grace!

My soul, remember the intense cup,
The wrath of heaven in force and weight,
  The cup He drank:
In anguish under the great,
    inexpressible burden,
With his blood flowing down to the ground,
  He suffered in my place.

My soul, remember Calvary,
And Jesus bringing thy blessing,
  Contentedly on the tree:
To bring thee a full blessing and peace,
He was on the cross, he was in the grave,
  O, love him forever!

            - - - - -

My soul, do not forget the cross,
Inexpressible agony, pain and anguish,
  Of the pure, faultless Lamb;
Under the frown of the world
    and strong hell,
And the intense, full demands of heaven,
  How deep and intense his stroke!

The dear Saviour condemn they did,
A host of murderers came forward,
  With rough, steel nails;
Under the weight,
    despite the extent of the pain,
Remain silent he did like a gentle Lamb:
  O my soul, remember his stroke!

Stricken he was, yes, my gracious Redeemer,
Until from his heart came water and blood,
  As a flood like a pure river;
It was on the ground seen as a lake,
Earnestly on the top of Calvary hill:
  O my soul, remember his stroke!

For my soul was the gentle Lamb
Thus suffering enormous pain,
  To make me truly free:
It was in his mind to finish the work
From the extremity of a vast eternity:
  Sing, my soul, about his stroke!