Dychwel Arglwydd i'th orphwysfa

Dychwel, Arglwydd, i'th orphwysfa,
  Pa'm y cuddi dy wynebpryd?
Pwy hyfrydwch gaiff y rhei'ny
  Sy'n dy garu yn y byd?
Poen a gofid o'r boreu-ddydd,
  Du, cymhylog, hyd yr hwyr,
Rhyw gystuddiau yn cyttuno
  'N llyn i'm digaloni'n llwyr.

Colli'th gariad yw pob colled,
  Colli'th heddwch yw pob gwae,
Fyth ni alla'i heb dig-wmp'ni
  Ond och'neidio a llwfrhau:
Tyr'd gan hynny tros fynyddau,
  Tyr'd trwy 'fonydd, tyr'd trwy dān,
Dere, Arglwydd, etto atta'i
  Fel y daethost ti o'r blaen.

Do, mi haeddais fil o weithiau
  I ti ddelio ā mi'n llyn,
Darfu'm calon dy ddiystyru
  Eilwaith, 'nol it' faddeu hyn;
Na roed d'Yspryd fi i fynu,
  Er mai fy haeddiant cyfiawn yw;
Delia a mi fel pechadur,
  Dangos dy hunan megis Duw.

Ti'm cofleidiaist yn dy freichiau,
  Minneu es at eilnnod cas,
Yno curodd fy ngelynion,
  Heb fy arbed, ar fy ngras;
Yn y llwch 'rwy'n awr yn dyfod,
  Ac yn gorwedd wrth y bedd,
Maddeu, maddeu, yw fy ngweddi,
  Gad im' etto wel'd dy wedd.

              - - - - -

Dychwel, Arglwydd i'th orphwysfa.
  Pa'm y cuddi'th wynebpryd?
Pa hyfrydwch fydd i'r rhei'ny
  Sy'n dy garu yn y byd?
Colli'th gariad yw pob colled,
  Colli'th heddwch yw pob gwae,
Fyth ni alla'i heb dy gwm'ni
  Ond och'neidio a llwfrhau.

O er mwyn y gwaed a gollwyd
  Dw'r a gwaed o'i ystlys ef,
Tynn bob cwmmwl dudew tywyll
  A'r sydd rhyngwyf 'nawr a'r nef:
Gad im brofi ffrwyth ei glwyfau
  Gad im' deimlo rhīn ei waed; 
Gad im' weled gwedd dy wyneb
  O fy Mhrynwr a fy a fy Nhad!

Golch fy enaid yn yr afon,
  Nes it' wneud y brwnt yn lān,
Llanw 'nghalon oer ddi-gariad
  O dy nefol hyfryd dān;
Dyro ran o bob rhinweddau,
  Ac sydd ynot ti dy hun;
Fel na byddwyf aflan mwyach
  Ond yn berffaith ar dy lūn.

Fel bo'm dyddiau oll yn ganu,
  Nid yn alar fel mae 'nawr;
Cariad f'o'n concwerio'm henaid,
  Ac yn soddi sŵn y llawr:
Ar d'adenydd gad im' 'hedeg,
  Trwy bob rhwystrau maith yn mlaen;
Credu, caru, gorfoleddu, 
  Nes im' dd'od i Salem lān.

gwelir:
  Draw ar gopa bryn Golgotha
  Mae fy nghalon am ehedeg
  Nid yw 'ngweddi nid yw 'nagrau
  O er mwyn y gwaed a gollwyd
  O er mwyn y gwaed dywalltwyd
  P'odd y gallaf ddweyd sydd ynwyt?

Return, Lord, to thy resting-place,
  Why dost thou hide thy countenance?
What delight do those get
  Who love thee in the world?
Pain and grief from the morning,
  Black, cloudy, until the evening,
Some afflictions agreeing
  Sharply to dishearten me completely.

Losing thy love is every loss,
  Losing thy peace is every woe,
Never can I do anything without
  Thy company but groan lose heart:
Come therefore over the mountains,
  Come through rivers, come through fire,
Come, Lord, again to me
  As thou didst before.

Yes, I deserved a thousand times
  For thee to deal with me thus,
Thy disregard shall make my heart vanish
  Again, back for thee to forgive this;
Do not let thy Spirit give me up,
  Despite its being my righteous dessert;
Deal with me like a sinner,
  Show thyself like God.

Thou didist enfold me in thy arms,
  And I went to detestable idols,
Then my enemies struck,
  Without thy saving, upon my grace;
In the dust I am now coming,
  And lying at thy grave,
Forgive, forgive, is my prayer,
  Let me again see thy face.

                 - - - - -

Return, Lord, to thy resting place.
  Why dost thou hide thy countenance?
What delight shall there be for those
  Who are loving thee in the world?
Losing thy love is every loss,
  Losing thy peace is every wor,
I can never do anything without thy company
  But groan and lose heart.

O for the sake of the blood which was shed
  Blood and water from his side,
Take away every dark thick black cloud
  That is between me now and heaven:
Let me experience the fruit of his wounds,
  Let me feel the virtue of his blood;
Let me see the countenance of thy face,
  O my Redeemer and my Father!

Wash my soul in the river,
  Until thou make the filthy clean,
Flood my cold, loveless heart
  With thy delightful heavenly fire;
Give a portion of all virtues,
  That are in thee thyself;
That I may be unclean no longer
  But perfect according to thy image.

Thus may all my days be singing,
  Not lamenting as they are now;
May love be conquering my soul,
  And drowning the sound of earth below:
On thy wings let me fly,
  Through all vast frustrations onward;
Believing, loving, rejoicing,
  Until I come to holy Salem.