Fy mhrofi 'rwyt O Arglwydd da

Fy mhrofi 'rwyt O Arglwydd da
Trwy orthrymderau'r
    byd a'i dda;
  Blinderau o fewn ac o'r tu ma's
  Sy'n d'od i brofi gwaith dy ras.

Tydi sy'n roddi'n helaeth iawn,
Ac yn dwyn ymaith y prydnhawn;
  Ond eilwaith rhoddi'n ddwbl gwnai
  I'r isel a'r crediniol rai.

Wrth golli ennill 'rwyf o hyd,
Wrth gwympo, codi er hyn i gyd;
  Wrth fyn'd yn dlawd cyfoethog wyf,
  Ryw'n derbyn iechyd dan bob clwyf.

Bendithion gwerthfawr melus iawn
Yn y blinderau chwerwa 'gawn;
  'R hyn sy'n lladd cnawd a phecod cās
  Sy'n maethu cadwedigol ras.

Pan bo hi'n myned arna'i'n drai
Yn fwy amddifad gan bob rhai;
  Cael 'rwyf gyfeillach gwell pryd hyn,
  Cwmpeini melus Duw ei hun.

O f'enaid glyna wrtho ef,
'Does noddfa arall dan y nef;
  Gwynt, gofid, gwagedd gwael i gyd,
  Yw'r cwbl welai yn y byd.

Testing me thou art, O good Lord,
Through the oppressions of the
    world and its good;
  Distresses within and without
  Which come to test the work of the grace.

'Tis thou who art giving very bountifully,
And leading out the evening;
  But again giving doubly would make
  The low and the believing ones.

While losing, winning I am still,
While falling, rising dispite all this;
  While going poor, rich I am,
  I am receiving health under every wound.

Very sweet, precious blessings
In the bitterest distresses I may get;
  That which is killing flesh and hated sin
  Is nurturing saving grace.

Whenever I become deprived
More deserted by every one;
  I am getting better friendship then,
  The sweet company of God himself.

O my soul, stick to him,
There is no other refuge under heaven;
  Wind, grief, all the poor vanity,
  Is the whole that I see in the world.