Mae rhyw foroedd o drugaredd

1,2;  1,3,4,5;  1,3,6,7,(8).
(Golwg ar gariad Crist yn digon y'ngwyneb croesau)
(1) Mae rhyw foroedd o drugaredd,
  Arglwydd, ynot ti dy hun;
Annherfynol a thragwyddol
  Yw dy gariad at y dyn:
Mewn cyfyngder buost ffyddlawn,
  Yno rho'ist dy nerth i maes; 
Yn y dynfder mawr 'rwyf finnau 
  'Nawr yn llefain am dy ras.

(2) Derfydd imi garu ac ofni
  Dim o'r nefoedd
      fawr i'r byd,
Pan y caffwy'r olwg gyntaf,
  Deced yw dy wyneb-pryd:
Gwedd dy wyneb sy'n dwyn bywyd,
  Gwedd dy wyneb sy'n dwyn hedd,
Gwedd dy wyneb ydyw'r cwbl
  Yma a thu draw i'r bedd.

(3) Codi'm llygaid 'rwyf i fynu,
  Edrych beunydd tua'r nef,
Felly 'rwyf yn treulio'r oriau,
  Dim ond dysgwyl wrtho ef;
Dagrau ac och'neidiau trymion,
  Yw fy mywyd yn y byd,
Nid oes dyben ar riddfanau,
  Heb gael gwel'd dy wyneb-pryd.

(4) Tyred Iesu i'r anialwch,
  At bechadur gwael ei lun,
Ganwaith dd'rysodd
    mewn rhyw rwydau,
  Rhwydau weithiodd ef ei hun;
Llosg fieri sydd o'm cwmpas,
  Rho fi sefyll ar fy nhraed,
Moes dy law ac arwain drosodd,
  F'enaid gwan i dir ei wlad.

(5) Mae'r anialwch wedi mlino,
  Chwant sydd arnaf wel'd y tir,
Roddwyd i mi gan fy Arglwydd,
  Cadarn mewn addewid wir;
Gwlad o oleuni heb dywyllwch,
  Gwlad o gariad heb ddim trai,
Gwlad heb hawddfyd na phleserau;
  Ond yn unig ei fwynhau.

(6) Dacw'r un sydd â thosturi,
  Draw yn griddfan ar y gro's
Dan fawr boen a dygn dywyllwch,
  T'w'llwch dudew fel y nos:
Mîl o boenau wasgodd arno,
  Etto darfu iddo eu dwyn;
Aeth i garchar gan yr angau,
  Ran o dridiau er fy mwyn.

(7) Blinais ar afonydd Babel,
  Nid oes yno ond wylo i gyd;
Llais telynau hyfryd Sion,
  Sydd yn gyson ddenu 'mryd:
Tyr'd â ni yn dorf gariadus,
  O gaethiwed Babel fawr,
Ac nes bo'm ar fynydd Sion,
  Na'd i'n orphwys fynud awr.

(8) Os gwaredi fi o'm cyfyngder
  Ac os sefi ar fy rhan,
Os gostegi rym y storom,
  Os cynheli fi i'r làn;
Ti gai nhafod,
    ti gai nghalon,
  Ti gai feddwyf
      yn y byd,
Ti gai'r clod,
    a thi gai'r moliant,
  Ti gai'r enw i ti ' gyd.
rho'ist dy nerth i maes :: rhoddaist gymmorth llawn
'Nawr yn llefain am dy ras :: Yn llefain am dy nefol ddawn

William Williams 1717-91

Tonau [8787D]:
Alleluia (S S Wesley 1810-76)
Carlisle (<1835)

gwelir:
  Dacw'r Iesu llawn tosturi
  Dyn dyeithr ydywf yma
  Gosod babel yng ngwlad Gosen
  Gwlad o d'wllwch wyf yn trigo
  Gwrando 'nghŵyn Dywysog heddwch
  Mae'r anialwch wedi mlino
  O na chlywn yr udgorn arian
  Rhyw drysorau heb eu mesur
  Tan y don yr wyf yn llefain
  Tyred Arglwydd i'r anialwch
  Tyred Iesu i'r anialwch

(A glimpse of Christ's love sufficient in the face of crosses)
There are some oceans of mercy,
  Lord, in thee thyself;
Boundless and eternal
  Is thy love towards humanity:
In straits thou hast been faithful,
  There thou didst put out thy strength;
In the great depth I myself am
  Now crying out for thy grace.

Fading away for me are loving and fearing
  Anything from the great
      heavens to the world,
When I get the first look,
  How fair is thy countenance:
The sight of thy face brings life,
  The sight of thy face brings peace,
The sight of thy face is the all
  Here and beyond the grave.

Lift my eyes I will up,
  To look daily towards heaven,
Thus I will spend the hours,
  Only waiting upon him;
Tears and heavy sighs
  Are my life in the world,
There is no end to groans,
  Without getting to see thy countenance.

Come, Jesus, into the desert,
  To a sinner in a poor condition,
Who got tangled a hundred
    times in some nets,
  Nets he made himself;
Burning briars are around me,
  Set me standing on my feet,
Give thy hand and lead over,
  My weak soul to the land of his country.

The desert has wearied me
  I have a longing to see the land,
It was given to me by my Lord,
  Secure in a true promise;
A land of light without darkness,
  A land of love without any ebbing,
A land without happiness or pleasures;
  Except to enjoy him.

There is one who has mercies,
  Yonder groaning on the cross
Under great pain and deep darkness,
  Thick black darkness like the night:
A thousand pains pressed on him,
  Yet it happened that he took them;
He went to prison with death,
  For three days for my sake.

I am wearied of Babylon's rivers,
  There is there only weeping altogether;
The voice of the lovely harps of Zion
  Are constantly drawing my attention:
Bring us as a loving crowd
  From the captivity of great Babylon,
And until we are on the mountain of Zion,
  Do not let us rest for a minute now.

If thou deliver me from my straits
  And if thou stand me on my portion,
If thou abate the force of the storm,
  If thou hold me up;
Thou wilt get my tongue,
    thou wilt get my heart,
  Thou wilt get what I
      possess in the world,
Thou wilt get the esteem,
    and thou wilt get the praise,
  Thou wilt get the name all to thyself.
thou didst put out thy strength :: thou didst give thy full help
Now crying out for thy grace :: Crying out for thy heavenly ability

tr. 2012 Richard B Gillion


The middle column is a literal translation of the Welsh. A Welsh translation is identified by the abbreviation 'cyf.' (emulation by 'efel.'), an English translation by 'tr.'

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