Mae'r etholedig ryw

Mae'r etholedig ryw
  Yn rhwymyn Duw, bob rhai,
Sef rhwymyn cariad gwastad, gwir;
  Yn gywir, sicr, sai';
Nid ing, neu gyfyng gur,
  Nac angeu, eglur yw,
Nac un rhyw dywydd
    cystudd caeth,
  All dori Arfaeth Duw.

Nid beiau'r plant ychwaith,
  Na'u holl amheuaeth hwy,
Oddiwrth eu Llywydd a'u pellha,
  Nac a'u symuda mwy:
Fe fethodd uffern gynt,
  A'i chorwynt blin a'i chas,
Ddiffoddi cariad Iesu cu,
  Nac 'chwaith ddirymu ei ras.

Ca'dd Satan sigo'i siol;
  A'i glol sydd dan ei glwy;
Heb obaith meddyg a'i iachâ,
  Na modd i'w wella mwy:
Ca'dd ei lywodraeth oll
  Gyd-deimlo'r archoll dwys,
A roddodd Iesu, ar y pren,
  I'w ben, â dirfawr bwys.

The chosen ones are
  In the bond of God, every one,
That is the bond of true, constant love;
  Truly, sure, it shall stand;
No pang, nor confining stroke,
  Nor death, it is clear,
Nor any weather
    of the affliction of captivity,
  Can break the Purpose of God.

Not the faults of the children either,
  Nor all their doubts,
Away from their Leader shall distance them,
  Nor move them any more:
Hell failed of old,
  With its grievous hurricane and its hatred,
The love of Jesus shall not be extinguished,
  Nor his grace be rendered powerless either.

Satan got his head crushed;
  And his skull is wounded;
Without the hope of any physician healing him,
  Nor means for him to get better any more:
All his government got
  To feel together the deep wound,
Jesus gave, on the tree,
  To his head, with enormous force.