Fy meiau trymion luoedd maith

Fy meiau trymion, luoedd maith,
  A waeddodd tua'r nen,
A dyna pam 'roedd rhaid i'm Duw
  Ddioddef ar y pren.

Hwy a'th fradychodd, annwyl Oen,
  Hwy oedd y goron ddrain,
Hwy oedd y fflangell greulon, gref,
  Hwy oedd yr hoelion main.

Fy meiau oedd y wayw-ffon
  Drywanai'i ystlys bur,
Fel y daeth ffrwd o dan ei fron
  O waed a dyfroedd clir.

O! gariad anorchfygol maith,
  Heb gymar iddo'n bod;
Cariad i angel ac i sant
  O anghymharol nôd.

O! maddau 'mai, a chliria'n llwyr
  F'euogrwydd oll i gyd;
N'ad im dristáu dy fawredd mwy
  Tra byddwyf yn y byd.

O bechod ffo! Rho lonydd im;
  Ti sethraist tan dy droed
A rhoist i angau fywyd Un
  A'm carodd orau erioed.

O chwilia 'nghalon, addfwyn Oen,
  Ac eiste' yma dy hun,
A thafla i lawr gadeiriau hen
  Pob eilun gwael ei lun.

gwelir:
  Nid oes o fewn i mi i gyd
  O maddeu 'mai a chliria'n llwyr
  Yr Iawn a dalwyd ar y groes

My heavy faults, vast hosts,
  Have shouted towards the sky,
And that is why there was need for my God
  To suffer on the tree.

It was they who betrayed thee, dear Lamb,
  They were the crown of thorns,
They were the strong, cruel scourge,
  They were the sharp nails.

My faults were the spear
  That pierced the pure side,
So that a stream came from under his breast
  Of blood and clear water.

Oh vast insurmountable love,
  With nothing being comparable to it;
Love to angel and to saint
  Of incomparable purpose.

Oh forgive my fault, and clear completely
  All my guilt entirely;
Do not let me sadden thy majesty any more
  As long as I am in the world.

O sin, flee! Give me peace;
  Thou didst trample under thy feet
And gavest to death the life of One
  Who loved me the best ever.

Oh search my heart, gentle Lamb,
  And sit here thyself,
And cast down the old thrones
  Of every idol of vile image.

And now the scales have left mine eyes,
  Now I begin to see;
Oh the curs'd deeds my sins have done!
  What murd'rous things they be!

Where these the traitors, dearest Lord,
  That thy fair body tore?
Monsters, that stain'd those heav'nly limbs
  With floods of purple gore!

Was it for crimes that I had done
  My dearest Lord was slain,
When justice seized God's only Son,
  And put His soul to pain?






Forgive my guilt, O Prince of peace,
  I'll wound my God no more;
Hence from my heart, ye sins, begone,
  For Jesus I adore.






Furnish me, Lord, with heav'nly arms
  From grace's magazine,
And I'll proclaim eternal war
  With every darling sin.