Mi âf at Grist er bod fy mai

Mi âf at Grist, er bod fy mai
  Fel mynydd yn fy ngho';
Gwn am ei lys, ac iddo'r âf,
  Er pob gwyrth'nebiad fo.

Ger bron ei orsedd syrthiaf lawr,
  A d'wedaf wrtho'n brudd,
Mai adyn llwyr golledig wyf,
  Heb ras i'm tynu'n rhydd.

Efallai gwrendy ar fy nghwyn,
  A rhoi'r deyrnwialen ma's;
Ond os rhaid marw - marw wnaf
  Dan guro porth ei ras.

Nid gwaeth na marw fydd os af,
  Anturiaf doed a ddêl,
Os peidiaf fyn'd, rhaid marw byth,
  Mae'm dedfryd dost dan sêl.

Ond os rhaid marw wrth ei borth,
  'Nol profi'r Brenin glân,
Caf farw fel na farw'r un
  Pechadur o fy mla'n.

I will go to Christ, despite my fault
  Like a mountain in my memory;
I know about his court, and to it I shall go,
  Despite every opposition there be.

Before his thron I shall fall down,
  And tell to him sadly,
That a scoundrel completely lost I am,
  Without grace to pull me free.

Perhaps he will listen to my complaint,
  And put his sceptre out;
And if I must die - die I shall
  While knocking at the gate of grace.

No worse than dying it shall be, if I go,
  I shall venture come what may,
If I do not go, I must die forever,
  My sore sentence is sealed.

But if I must die at his gate,
  After experiencing the holy King,
I can die like no single sinner
  Died before me.