Fy mywyd wyt fy Nuw

Fy mywyd wyt, fy Nuw,
  A'm Cyfaill gwiw, digoll;
Can's hebot ti nis gallaf fyw,
  Ti yw fy oll yn oll.






Nis gall y ddaear laith,
  Na'i thrysor maith i gyd,
Roi dim boddlonrwydd imi 'nawr,
  Heb wawr dy wyneb-pryd.

Dy wên a'th hawddgar bryd,
  Mor hardd, mor hyfryd yw!
Dewisol baradwysaidd wledd
  Yw bod yn hedd fy Nuw.






Dy ras digonol yw
  Tra byddwyf byw'n y byd,
Am hyny pwysaf ar fy Naf,
  A'i garu wnaf o hyd.

Nis gall telynau aur
  Y dyrfa ddysglaer fry
Wneyd nef i neb, heb wyneb Duw -
  Efe yw goleu'r Ty!

Mae tonnau'm holl fwynhad
  Ym môr Dy gariad Di:
Byw ynot mae fy enaid gwan -
  Y cyfan wyt i mi!

My life thou art, my God,
  And my unfailing, worthy friend;
For without thee I cannot live,
  Thou art my all in all.






The soft earth cannot,
  Nor all its vast treasure,
Give any pleasure to me now,
  Without the dawn of this countenance.

Thy smile and thy amiable face,
  How beautiful, how lovely it is!
A choice paradisaical feast
  It is to be in the peace of my God.






Thy grace is sufficient
  While ever I live in the world,
Therefore I will lean on my Master,
  And I will always love him.

Nor can the golden harps
  Of the shining throng above
Make heaven to anyone, except God's face -
  He is the light of the House!

The billows of all my enjoyment are
  In the sea of Thy love:
Live in Thee does my weak soul -
  The whole thou art to me!

My God, my Life, my Love
  To thee, to thee I call;
I can not live if thou remove,
  For thou art all in all.

Thy shining grace can cheer
  This dungeon where I dwell:
'Tis paradise when thou art here;
  If thou depart, 'tis hell.

Nor earth, nor all the sky.
  Can one delight afford;
No, not a drop of real joy
  Without thy presence, Lord.

The smilings of thy face,
  How amiable they are!
'Tis heav'n to rest in thy embrace,
  And nowhere else but there.

To thee, and thee alone,
  The angels owe their bliss;
They sit around thy gracious throne,
  And dwell where Jesus is.

To thee my spirits fly
  With infinite desire;
And yet how far from thee I lie!
  Dear Jesus, raise me higher.

Not all the harps above
  Can make a heav'nly place,
If God his residence remove,
  Or but conceal his face.

Thou art the sea of love
  Where all my pleasures roll,
The circle where my passions move,
  And center of my soul.