Nid oes (Ni fu ni ddaw mewn unrhyw oes)

(Cariad Crist)
1,2,3,(4);  1,2,4,5,6;  1,3,4,(5);  1,4,5.
      Nid oes
Ni fu ni ddaw mewn unrhyw oes,
O gymaint gwerth a
        gwaed y groes;
  Y ddwyfol loes ddioddefodd ef;
    O gariad mawr, diderfyn stôr,
  Sydd fel y môr byth ynddo Ef!

      Pwy, pwy,
Ymguddiodd yn dy ddwyfol glwy',
Ac yna a fethodd dori trwy?
  Gystuddiau fwy na
          gwellt y maes;
    Mae'r fuddugoliaeth fawr yn d'od,
  Hyd yma erioed, trwy
          rym dy ras.

      Efe,
Yw'r unig wrthddrych îs y nef -
Dâl yn fy nghalon ro'i iddo le;
  Un arall, b'le, sy'n deilwng fod?
    Ei gariad pur hyd derfyn byd
  Mewn lled a hyd
          sy'n dwyn y clod.

      Af trwy,
Fy nhemtasiynau aml mwy
Tan aden cariad
        dwyfol glwy:
  Mi'u concraf hwy'n ei goncwest Ef;
    A'i gariad yw fy noddfa glud
  Nes myn'd o'r byd
          i deyrnas nef.

      Erioed
Mae'n dal y rhai sydd
        tan ei nod,
Na lithro mymryn byth o'u tro'd,
  Heb iddynt ddod ar frys yn ôl:
    Ei Ysbryd sy'n eu cadw'n glyd
  Mewn dyrys fyd, o fewn ei gôl.

      'Does dim,
O dan y nefoedd fawr o rym,
A'm deil i'r làn dan gystudd llym,
  Ond cariad pur, fy Arglwydd cu:
    A hwn a'm nertha'i fyn'd ymlaen,
  Trwy ddw'r a thân,
          i'r Ganaan fry.

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

      Nid oes,
Ni fu, ni ddaw, mewn unrhyw oes,
O gymaint gwerth a
        gwaed y groes,
  Y ddwyfol loes,
          ga'dd Brenin nef;
    O gariad mawr diderfyn stôr,
  Sydd fel y môr mewn dwyfol lef.

      O! pwy
Ymguddiodd yn dy ddwyfol glwy',
Ac yno fethodd dori trwy
  Gystuddiau fwy na
          gwellt y maes?
    Mae'r fuddugoliaeth fawr yn dod,
  Hyd heddyw erioed, oddi wrth dy ras.

      Nid oes
A ddeil fy ysbryd dan bob croes
Ond dwyfol, nefol, farwol loes;
  Estyniad f'oes yw ei fwynhau:
    'Does arall gysur mewn un man;
  Fe yw fy rhan byth i barhau.

      'Does drai,
Nac eisieu dim, y man y mae,
Mae'n llenwi'r cyfan yn ddilai;
  Pawb, O! na baent yn gwel'd ei wedd,
    Sychedent am ei wir fwynhau
  Mewn gwledd ddi-drai
        a bythol hedd.
William Williams 1717-91

Tonau [288.888]:
Aberdeen (alaw Ellmynig)
Cymdeithas (<1835)
Golgotha (John H Roberts 1848-1924)
Llangors (David Jenkins 1848-1915)
Nürenberg (<1869)
Potsdam (<1869)
Prosper (<1829)
Ravensburg (<1875)

gwelir:
  Brydnawn (Ar y ddedwyddaf awr a gawn)
  Ei glôd (Sydd heb un terfyn iddo'n bôd)
  Nid oes (A ddeil fy Ysbryd dan bob croes)

(The Love of Christ)
 
      There is not
Nor was there, nor will there ever be,
Anything of so much worth as
        the blood of the cross;
  The divine anguish he suffered,
    Of great love, an endless store,
  Which is like the sea forever in him!

      Who, who,
Revealed himself in thy divine wound,
And there failed to break through?
  Afflictions more than the
          straw of the field;
    The great victory is coming,
  So far ever, through the
          force of thy grace.

      He,
Is the only object under heaven -
That stays in my heart giving him a place;
  Any other, where, that is worthy to be?
    His pure love until the world's end
  In breadth and length
        is bearing the praise.

      I will go through,
My many temptations henceforth
Under the wings of the love
        of a divine wound
  I will conquer them in his conquest;
    And his love is my secure refuge
  Until I leave the world
          for the kingdom of heaven.

      Always
He keeps those who are
        under his protection,
Their feet shall never slip for a moment,
  Without him quickly coming after them:
    His spirit is keeping them secure
  In a troublesome world, within his bosom.

      There is nothing,
Under the great heaven of force,
That holds me up under sharp afflictions,
  But the pure love of my dear Lord:
    And 'tis he who strengthens me to go on,
  Through water and fire,
          to the Canaan above.

                 - - - - -


      There is not
Nor was there, nor will there ever be,
Anything of so much worth as
        the blood of the cross,
  The divine anguish,
          the king of heaven had;
    O great love! an endless store
  Which is like the see in a divine cry.

      O who
Revealed himself in thy divine wound,
And there failed to break through
  Afflictions more than the
          straw of the field?
    The great victory is coming,
  Ever until today, from thy grace.

      There is none
Who holds my spirit under every cross
But divine, heavenly, mortal anguish;
  The extension of my age is to enjoy him:
    There is no other comfort in any place;
  He is my portion forever to endure.

      There is no ebbing,
Nor any need, where he is,
He is filling the whole, no less;
  Everyone, O that they would see his face,
    They thirst truly to enjoy him
  In an unebbing feast and
          everlasting peace.
tr. 2019,20 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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