Fe ro'w'd arno bwys euogrwydd,
  Pwys nas gall ei ddàl mo ddyn,
Cosb pechodau
    myrdd o ddynion,
  Heb un pechod ynddo ei hun;
Do, fe'i gwisgwyd â chystuddiau,
  Ffrwyth fy meiau fawr a mân,
Fel cawn inau wael bechadur,
  Aflan, euog, fod yn lân.

Ac yn nyfnder grym ei boenau,
  Tan ergydion angeu loes;
Fe weddiodd am faddeuant,
  Maddeu i mi ar y groes:
Fe gofleidiodd f'enaid aflan,
  Rhwng y ddaear fawr a'r nen,
Do, fe ngharodd, ac fe nghofiodd,
  Tan yr hoelion ar y prèn.

O anfeidrol berffaith gariad!
  Cariad nas gall dawn na gras,
Dynion, na'r angylion penaf,
  Byth yn hollol ddodi maes;
Cariad fydd yn sylfaen gadarn,
  O bob Anthem yn y nef,
Seintiau ac Angylion draphlith,
  Canant am ei gariad ef.

Ac ni fydd mo drag'wyddoldeb
  Ddim yn ormod er ei hŷd,
I ddatguddio hen ddyfnderoedd,
  Cariad Iesu maes i gyd;
Holl rinweddau maith ei glwyfau,
  Poenau'r hoelion meinion llym,
A wna oesoedd i fyn'd heibio,
  Etto heb eu gweled ddim.

           - - - - -

Fe ro'ed arno bwys euogrwydd,
  Pwys nas gallai'i ddal mo ddyn,
Cosb pechodau
    myrdd o ddynion,
  Heb un pechod ynddo ei hun;
Do, fe'i gwisgwyd â chystuddiau,
  Ffrwyth fy meiau fawr a mân,
Fel cawn innau wael bechadur,
  Aflan, euog, fod yn lân.

Iesu ei hunan yw fy mywyd,
  Iesu yn ei farwol loes;
Y trysorau mwya' feddaf
  Yw ei angeu ar y groes:
Gwagder annherfynol ydyw,
  Meddu daear, da, a dyn;
Colled ennill pob peth arall,
  Os na 'nillir Di dy hun.

Os am bechod y'th w'radwyddwyd,
  Ac y gwanwyd gwaewffon,
Nes gwneyd archoll nad anghofir
  Tra fo'r nefoedd,
      dan dy fron;
Gâd i mi gael ffrwyth dy glwyfau,
  Gâd i mi gael rhin dy waed,
Maddeu 'mhechod, gwel'd Dy wyneb
  Di, fy Mhrynwr a fy Nhad.

gwelir:
  O anfeidrol berffaith gariad
  O ddyfnderoedd O ddoethineb

The weight of guilt was put upon him,
  Weight that no man could bear,
The punishment of the sins
    of a myriad of men,
  Without one sin in him himself;
Yes, he was clothed with afflictions,
  The fruit of faults great and small,
So that we may get, we base, unclean
  Guilty sinners, to be clean.

And in the strong depth of his pains,
  Under the blows of the throes of death;
He prayed for forgiveness,
  Forgiving for me on the cross:
He embraced my unclean soul,
  Between the great earth and the sky,
Yes, he loved me, and he remembered me,
  Under the nails on the tree.

Oh, immeasurable, perfect love!
  Love which no talent or grace of
Men, or the chief angels, could
  Ever completely set forth;
Love which will be a firm foundation,
  Of every Anthem in heaven,
Saints and Angels alike,
  Sing about his love.

And eternity shall not be
  Any too much despite its length,
To disclose the old depths,
  Of the love of Jesus openly altogether;
All the vast merits of his wounds,
  The pains of the sharp, piercing nails,
Shall make ages to go by,
  Still without their being seen.

                - - - - -

The weight of guilt was put upon him,
  Weight that no man could bear,
The punishment of the sins
    of a myriad of men,
  Without one sin in him himself;
Yes, he was clothed with afflictions,
  The fruit of faults great and small,
So that we may get, we base, unclean
  Guilty sinners, to be clean.

Jesus himself is my life,
  Jesus in his dying throes;
The greatest treasure I shall possess
  Is his death on the cross:
Unending emptiness it is,
  To possess earth, stock and man;
Loss be the winning of everything else,
  If Thou thyself be not won.

If for sin thou wast put to shame,
  And pierced by a spear,
Until making a wound not to be forgotten
  While ever the heavens be,
      under thy breast;
Let me get the fruit of thy wounds,
  Let me get the virtue of thy blood,
Forgivness of my sins, seeing Thy face
  My Redeemer and my Father.