Tyred, Arglwydd, ar amseroedd,
  Mae fy enaid am fwynhau,
Pur dangnefedd heb demhestloedd,
  Cywir, tawel i barhau;
Hyfryd hedd, tu draw i'r bedd,
Nad oes ond dy blant a'i medd.

Na'd fi adeiladu'n ysgafn,
  Ar un sylfaen is y ne',
Na chymmeryd craig i orphwys,
  Tu yma i angau yn dy le:
Ti fy Nuw, tra fwyf byw,
Gaiff fod fy nghorphwysfa wiw.

Pan y collwyf wedd dy wyneb,
  Pan anghofiwyf waed y groes,
Dyna'n dyfod fel y diluw,
  Dywyll anial ddyrys nos:
Gradd o ffydd, wedi'n sydd,
Dawel deg yn d'od a dydd.

Weithiau dyru ei ragluniaeth,
  Weithiau rhydd
      ei hyfryd ras,
I fy ngwarchod a fy nghadw,
  Rhag fy chwantau ffiaidd cas;
Boed fy nghan iddo yn lân,
Pan el daear fawr ar dân.

Mi âf ymlaen doed a ddelo,
  Tra bo hyfryd eiriau'r Nef,
Yn cyhoeddi iachawdwriaeth,
  Lawn o'i sanctaidd enau ef:
Nid yw grym, gelyn llym,
At ei anfeidrol ras ef ddim.

Dal fi'n gadarn hyd nes delo,
  Amser hyfryd o rhyddhau,
A chael yn lle temtasiynau,
  Yn dragywydd dy fwynhau:
Dyna'r bryd, gwyn fy myd,
Derfydd fy ngofidiau i gyd.

            - - - - -
           1,2,3,4,(5).

Tyred, Arglwydd, â'r amseroedd
  Mae fy enaid am fwynhau -
Pur dangnefedd heb dymhestloedd,
  Cariad hyfryd a di-drai:
Gwledd o hedd tu yma i'r bedd,
Nid oes ond dy blant a'i medd.

Rho i mi arwydd cryf, disigl,
  Heb ammheuaeth ynddo ddim, 
Gan nad beth fo arnaf eisieu, 
  Dy fod di yn Briod im:
Gwel'd fy rhan, ddeil i'r lan,
Yn mhob brwydr, f'enaid gwan.

Nid all dim o'r storom danbaid,
  Nid all dim o'r gwyntoedd cry',
Guro i lawr yr enaid egwan
  Welo'i drysor ynot ti:
Teimlo'th hedd, gwel'd dy wedd,
Goncra angeu tu yma i'r bedd.

Af ar hyd fy ffordd yn ddiddig,
  Af ar hyd fy ffordd yn hy',
Teithia'r anial mewn gorfoledd
  O hyd golwg atat ti:
D'eiriau di, melus cu,
Sydd yn ddigon i myfi.

Pan y collwyf wel'd dy wyneb,
  Pan anghofiwyf waed dy groes,
Dyna'n dyfod, fel y diluw,
  Dywyll, anial, ddyrys, nos;
Gradd o ffydd wed'yn sydd,
Dawel, deg, yn dod â dydd.

gwelir:
  Aros Iesu yn y rhyfel
  Iesu nid oes ond dy allu
  Mi debygwn drwy'r cymylau
  Na'd im adeiladu'n ysgafn
  Rhwng Pih'iroth a Baalsephon

Bring, Lord, the times,
  My souls wants to enjoy,
Pure tranquility without tempests,
  True, quiet, to endure;
Delightful peace, beyond the grave,
Only thy children shall possess.

Do not let me built lightly,
  On any foundation under heaven,
Nor take a rock to rest,
  This side of death in any place:
Thou my God, while ever I live,
Shall get to be my worthy resting-place.

When I lose the countenance of thy face,
  When I forget the blood of the cross,
Then coming like the deluge,
  A dark desert, a troublesome night:
A degree of faith, afterwards shall be,
Quiet, fair, bringing day.

Sometimes he will grant his providence,
  Sometimes he will give
      his delightful grace,
To guard me and preserve me,
  From my detestable, loathsome lusts;
Let my song be purely to him,
When the great earth goes on fire.

I will go forward come what may,
  While ever Heaven's delightful words are
Publishing full
  Salvation from his holy mouth:
The force of a sharp enemy is not
  Anything to his infinite grace.

Hold me firmly until there should come,
  A delightful time of freedom,
And getting instead of temptations,
  In eternity to enjoy thee:
That is the time, blessed shall I be,
All my griefs shall vanish.

                - - - - -
 

Bring, Lord, the times
  My soul wants to enjoy -
Pure tranquility without tempests,
  Love delightful and unebbing:
A feast of peace this side of the grave,
Only thy children shall possess.

Give me a strong, unshakeable eagerness,
  Without any doubt in it,
That shall have no lack,
  Of thy being a Spouse to me:
See my part, hold up,
In every battle, my weak soul.

Nothing of the fiery storm can,
  Nothing of the strong winds can,
Beat down the weak soul
  That sees its treasure in thee:
Feeling thy peace, seeing thy face,
Shall conquer death this side of the grave.

I shall go along my way calmly,
  I shall go along my way confidently,
I shall travel the desert in joy
  Always looking to thee:
Thy words, dearly sweet,
Are sufficient for me.

When I lose the sight of thy face,
  When I forget the blood of the cross,
Then coming, like the deluge,
  A dark, desert, troublesome night;
A degree of faith then is,
Quiet, fair, bringing day.