A heibio'r dywell nos,
Fe ffŷ cymylau'r nen,
Fe ddaw'r addewid wir
A'r geiriau pur i ben;
Ceir gwel'd, ceir gwel'd,
yr hyfryd dir
Ar fyr o dro yn oleu clir.
Fe gân 'tifeddion gras,
Yn beraidd maes o law,
Wrth weled boddi'r Aipht,
A hwythau'r ochr draw;
Fy enaid hed i ben y bryn,
I wel'd y concwest rhyfedd hyn.
Mae'r ffordd yn awr yn rhydd,
Agorwyd hi o bob tu,
O ddyfnder daear las,
I uchder nefoedd fry;
O dring, O dring, fy enaid mwy,
Mae nerth i'w gael
mewn marwol glwy'.
- - - - -
A heibio'r dywell nos,
Fe ffy cymylau'r nen,
Fe ddaw'r addewid wir,
A'r geiriau pur i ben;
Ceir gwel'd, y nefol hyfryd dir,
Ar fyr o dro, mewn goleu clir.
Ceir gwel'd yr addfwyn Oen,
Fu farw ar y bryn,
Yn medi o ffrywth ei boen,
Yn hyfryd y pryd hyn;
A myrdd heb rif,
yn canu'n nghyd,
I'r hwn fu farw dros y byd.
- - - - -
A heibio'r dywell nos,
Fe ffŷ cymylau'r nen,
Fe ddaw'r addewid wir
A'r geiriau pur i ben;
Ceir gwel'd, ceir gwel'd,
yr hyfryd dir
Ar fyr o dro yn oleu, clir.
Mi welaf oleu'r haul
Ar fryniau tŷ fy Nhad,
Yn dangos imi sail
Fy iachawdwriaeth rad:
Fod f'enw fry
ar lyfrau'r nef,
Ac nad oes a'i dilëa Ef.
- - - - -
1,2,(3),4,5.
A heibio'r dywell nos,
Fe ffŷ cymylau'r nen,
Fe ddaw'r addewid wir
A'r geiriau pur i ben;
Ceir gwel'd, ceir gwel'd,
yr hyfryd dir
Ar fyr o dro yn oleu clir.
Mae'r oriau maith eu rhif,
Yn dirwyn yn y blaen:
Er bod nosweithiau'n faith,
O'r diwedd darfod wnan':
Cymmylau'r nen,
er maint eu grym,
O flaen y wawr ni safant ddim.
Pan t'wyno arnai'r dydd,
Mi wedi'n garia'r groes,
Ag oedd yn gwasgu lawr,
Yn llwythog ganol nos;
Mi neidia dros y ffoesydd maith,
Ond cael dy gwmp'ni ar fy nhaith.
'Dyw profedigaeth ddim,
'Dyw'r holl gystuddiau ond gwan,
I guro hwnw i lawr
A ddaliech di i'r lan:
Mae nerth dy ras
yn fwy na'r byd,
A'r myrdd o ddrygau sy ynddo i gyd.
Ni attal dim o'r môr,
A'i donau cedyrn, cry',
Rhag myn'd i ben ei daith
Yr hwn gynnaliech di;
'Dyw'r moroedd maith,
'dyw Pharaoh ddim,
Idd eu cymmharu â dy rym.
Ni attal :: Ni ettyl :: Nid atal Idd eu cymmharu :: I'w ei gydmharu
Tonau [666688]:
gwelir: |
The dark night is passing,
The clouds of the sky are fleeing,
The true promise will bring
The pure words to fulfilment;
Get to be seen, get to be seen,
will the delightful land
In a short while in clear light.
The heirs of grace will sing,
Sweetly soon,
On seeing the drowning of Egypt,
And they on yonder side;
My soul, fly to the top of the hill,
To see this wonderful conquest.
The way is now free,
It was opened on every side,
From the depth of the blue-green earth,
To the height of heaven above;
O climb, O climb, my soul henceforth,
There is strength to be got
in a mortal wound.
- - - - -
The dark night is passing,
The clouds of the sky are fleeing,
The true promise will bring,
It's pure words to fulfilment;
To be seen is the delightful heavenly land,
In a short while, in a clear light.
To be seen is the gentle Lamb,
Who died on the tree,
Reaping from the fruit of his pain,
Delightfully at that time;
And a myriad without number,
singing together,
To him who died for the world.
- - - - -
The dark night is passing,
The clouds of the sky are fleeing,
The true promise will bring
The pure words to fulfilment;
Get to be seen, get to be seen,
will the delightful land
In a short while as light, clear.
I see the light of the sun
On the hills of my Father's house,
Showing me the basis
Of my free salvation:
That my name is above
on the books of heaven,
And that He will not delete it.
- - - - -
The dark night is passing,
The clouds of the sky are fleeing,
The true promise will bring
The pure words to fulfilment;
Get to be seen, get to be seen,
will the delightful land
In a short while in clear light.
The hours vast in number are
Winding up ahead:
Although it is becoming night vastly,
Eventually vanishing they are:
The clouds of the sky,
despite how great their force,
Before the dawn they shall not stand.
When the day shines upon me,
I shall have carried the cross,
Which was pressing down,
Burdensomely in the middle of the night;
I shall leap across the wide ditches,
If I but get thy company on my journey.
Testing is nothing,
All the afflictions but weak,
To beat this one down
Whom thou holdest up:
The strength of thy grace is
greater than the world,
And all the myriads of evils that are in it.
Nothing from the sea can stop,
With is firm, strong waves,
From going to his destination,
One whom thou dost support;
The vast seas are not,
Pharaoh is not anything,
In comparison to thy force.
:: :: :: tr. 2016,17 Richard B Gillion |
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