Llawn o ofid llawn o wae

Llawn o ofid, llawn o wae,
  A llawn euogrwydd du,
Byth y byddaf yn parhau
  Heb gael dy gwmni cu;
Golwg unwaith ar dy wedd
  A'm cod i'r làn o'r pydew mawr; -
O fy Nuw, nac oeda'n hwy,
  Rho'r olwg imi'n awr.

Gwel y truan, gwel y tlawd,
  Yn gorwedd wrth dy draed;
O Samariad, bydd yn frawd,
  Adfera im' iachâd;
Dyro olew yn fy mriw,
  A chod fi ar d'anifail cun,
Ac nis gall fyth fyth fy nwyn
  Ond d'allu di dy hun.

'Mofyn am orffwysfa glyd,
  Heb gwrdd â stormydd mwy:
Lloches nid oes yn y byd
  At hyn ond yn dy glwy';
Tro fy ngolwg at y fan
  Y llaesa f'ofnau oll a'm braw;
Fythol na ddychrynwyf weld
  Y bore-ddydd a ddaw.

3b[Ceisiaf am orphwysfa glyd,
   Heb rym ystormydd mwy;
 Lloches nid oes yn y byd
   Fel hyn ond yn dy glwy':
 Tro fy ngolwg at y fan
   Y derfydd ofnau trist a braw;
 Yna f'enaid llawen fydd
   Y bore ddydd a ddaw.]

Iesu annwyl, dos o'm blaen,
  Mae ofnau o bob tu;
Llid weld eiddil gwan yn mynd
  O'r byd i'r nefoedd fry;
Bydd yn nerth, a bydd yn dŵr
  Rhag pob rhyw drallod
      'ddêl i'm cwrdd;
Yn nyfnderodd tân a dŵr
  N'ad dân a'r dŵr i'm cwrdd.

Collais y baradwys wiw,
  A'm nerth at oll sydd dda;
Llawn wyf heddyw, gŵyr fy Nuw,
  O bob rhyw ffiaidd bla:
At y nef apelio wnaf,
  Can's yno mae'm cartrefle llon:
Ac ar fynydd Calfari,
  Mae dechreu'm taith i hon.

Dyrys daith, a mi sydd wan,
  A bryniau maith o'm blaen;
Mi frawychais lawer gwaith
  Rhag grym
      y fflamau tân;
Mae'r Iorddonen heddyw'n fawr,
  Os gwir ddychymyg f'enaid gwan,
Dyred, Arglwydd iddi lawr,
  Ac yna dof i'r làn.

Iesu'r dirmygedig un
  Ddyoddefodd angeu loes,
Gan ryw ddienyddwr llym
  Yn dawel ar y groes:
Y gruddfanau rodd i maes
  A wna drueiniaid fyrdd yn rhydd;
Bellach holl ganiadau'r nef,
  Byth am Galfaria fydd.

gwelir:
  Iesu'r dirmygedig un
  Pwy all 'nabod faint fy mai?

Full of grieve, full of woe,
  And full of black guilt,
Forever I shall continue
  Without getting thy dear company;
A view once upon thy face
  Shall raise me up from the great pit; -
O my God, no longer delay,
  Grant the view to me now!

See the wretch, see the poor one,
  Lying at thy feet;
O Samaritan, be a brother,
  Restore to me healing;
Put oil in my bruise,
  And raise me on thy dear animal,
And nothing can ever, ever carry me
  But thy own power.

I ask for a cosy resting-place,
  Without meeting with any more storms:
There is no refuge in the world
  To this end but in thy wound;
Turning my face to the place
  Shall relieve all my fears and my terror;
I shall never be terrified to see
  The coming dawn of day.

3b[I will seek for a secure resting-place,
   Without the force of storms any more;
 There is no refuge in the world
   Like this but in thy wound:
 Turn my view to the place
   Where sad fear and terror pass away;
 Then my soul joyful shall be
   On the morning of the day to come.]

Dear Jesus, go before me,
  There are fears on every side;
Wrath sees the feeble weak going
  From the world to heaven above;
Be strength, and be a tower
  Against every kind of trouble
      that may come to meet me;
In the depths of fire and water
  Do not let fire and the water meet me.

I lost the worthy paradise,
  And my strength towards all that is good;
Full I am today, my God knows,
  Of every kind of detestable plague:
To heaven I shall appeal,
  Since there is my cheerful home:
And on the mount of Calvary,
  Is the start of my journey to it.

A troublesome journey, and I am weak,
  With vast hills before me;
I betrayed many times
  For fear of the force
      of the flames of fire;
The Jordan today is great,
  If rightly my weak soul imagines,
Come down, Lord,
  And then I shall come up.

Jesus the scorned one
  Who suffered the throes of death,
From some keen executioner
  Quietly on the cross:
The groans he gave out
  Shall make a myriad of wretches free;
Henceforth all the songs of heaven,
  Forever about Calvary shall be.

Woe is me! what tongue can tell
  My sad afflicted state!
Who my anguish can reveal,
  Or all  my woes relate!
Fallen among thieves I am,
  And they have robb'd me of my God;
Turn'd my glory into shame,
  And left me in my blood.

O thou good Samaritan!
  In thee is all my hope;
Only thou canst succour man,
  And raise the fallen up:
Hearken to my dying cry;
  My wounds compassionately see;
Me, a sinner, pass not by,
  Who gasp for help to thee.

Still thou journey'st where I am,
  And still thy bowels move:
Pity is with thee the same,
  And all thy heart is love:
Stoop to a poor sinner, stoop,
  And let thy healing grace abound;
Heal my bruises, and bind up
  My spirit's every wound.

Saviour of my soul draw nigh,
  In mercy haste to me,
At the point of death I lie,
  And cannot come to thee;
Now thy kind relief afford,
  The wine and oil of grace pour in;
Good Physician, speak the word,
  And heal my soul of sin.

Pity to my dying cries
  Hath drawn thee from above,
Hovering over me, with eyes
  Of tenderness and love,
Now, even now, I see thy face;
  The balm of Gilead I receive;
Thou hast saved me by thy grace,
  And bade the sinner live.

Surely now the bitterness
  Of second death is past;
O my life, my righteousness!
  On thee my soul is cast:
Thou hast brought me to thine inn,
  And I am of thy promise sure;
Thou shalt cleanse me from all sin,
  And all my sickness cure.

Perfect, then, the work begun,
  And make the sinner whole;
All thy will on me be done,
  My body, spirit, soul:
Still preserve me safe from harms,
  And kindly for thy patient care;
Take me, Jesus, to thine arms,
  And keep me ever there.