Fe gân, Y gwaredigion, fawr a mân, Drag'wyddol glod i'w priod glân; Pan ddelo'r tân i losgi'r tir, Cânt godi eu penau a llawenhau, Eu poenus wae, â heibio'n wir. Mae braint Yn awr yn eiddo pawb o'r saint, Nad ellir byth fynegu ei maint; Can's dianc gânt o wlad o boen I felus wledd, o faith barhad, Bwrcasodd gwaed yr addfwyn Oen. - - - - - Fe gân, fe gân Y gwaredigion, fawr a mân, Drag'wyddol glôd i'r Iesu glân; Pan ferwo'r môr, pan losgo'r tîr, Cân' godi eu pennau a llawenhau, Eu poenus wae â heibio'n wîr. Daeth trwy, daeth trwy, Fy Iesu glân a'i farwol glwy', Fendithion fyrdd, daw etto fwy, Mae ynddo faith ddi-derfyn 'stôr: Ni gawsom rai defnynau i lawr, Beth am yr awr cawn fyn'd i'r môr! Braint, braint, Yw cael cymdeithas gyd a'r saint, Na welodd neb erioed ei maint; Ni ddaw un haint fyth iddynt hwy; Y mae'r gymdeithas yma'n gref, Ond yn y nef, hi fydd yn fwy. Daw, daw, Yr hyfryd foreu, mae gerllaw, Bydd pawb a'i delyn yn ei law, Heb ofn na braw, y'nghwm'ni'r Oen; Ond canu i dra'wyddoldeb maith, Ar ben y daith, heb friw na phoen.John Roberts (Siôn Robert Lewis) 1731-1806 Diferion y Cyssegr 1802 Tôn [288.888]: Braint (alaw Gymreig)
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The delivered, Shall sing, great and small, Eternal praise to their holy spouse; When the fire comes to burn the land, They may lift their heads and rejoice, Their painful woe, shall truly pass. A privilege Now belongs to all of the saints, Their privilege can never be expressed; Since they shall get to escape from a land of pain Sweetly to a feast, of an enduring extent, The blood of the gentle Lamb purposed. - - - - - The delivered, Shall sing, shall sing, great and small, Eternal praise to holy Jesus; When the sea boils, when the land burns, They may lift their heads and rejoice, Their painful woe shall truly pass. My holy Jesus, Came through, came through with his mortal wound, A myriad blessings, yet more shall come, In him there is a vast, endless store: We may get some drops here below, What about when we get to go to the sea! A privilege, privilege, Is to have fellowship with the saints, No-one ever saw its extent; No disease shall ever come upon them; The fellowship here is strong, But in heaven, it shall be greater. The delightful morning Shall come, shall come, it is at hand, Everyone shall have his harp in his hand, Without fear or terror, in the company of the Lamb; But singing for an eternal extent, At the journey's end, without bruise or pain.tr. 2018 Richard B Gillion |
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