Nid yw fy nyddiau yn y byd

Nid yw fy nyddiau yn y byd
Ond megys dyrnfedd gron i gyd;
  A darfod maent, nis gwn pa lun,
  Wrth bechu yn erbyn Duw ei hun.

'Rwy'n profi meiau, fawr a mân,
'Nawr am fy nigaloni'n lân;
  Eu rhif, eu nerth,
      ynghyd â'u lliw,
  A wnaeth fy enaid bach yn friw.

Fe'm twyllwyd, do, gwae fi yr awr,
I dorri deddf f'Eiriolwr mawr;
  Edifar genny' wneud anghlod,
  I'r un a'm carodd oreu erioed.

Maddeuaist ganwaith,
    maddeu hyn, 
Arglwydd càna fi etto'n wyn; 
  Cyflawna'th waith ar f'enaid gwan,
  Nes dod o'r anial maith i'r làn.

Na tharo fi, 'rwy dan fy maich,
'Dwy'n abal diodde' pwys dy fraich;
  Duw ydwyt ti, 'dwyf fi ond dyn,
  Pa'm lleddi waith dy ddwylo'th hun?

Gwn mai rhinweddol yw dy waed,
I ddadleu'm hawl o flaen y Tad,
  Rhwyddhau fy ffordd at orsedd gras, 
  A maddeu'n llwyr fy meiau cas.

Cofia mai gwagedd wyf a gwynt,
A chofia'm cwymp yn Eden gynt;
  A chofia mod yn teithio 'nawr,
  Mewn byd sy'n llawn o feiau mawr.

'Rwy'n gwel'd mai ofer yw fy ngrym,
Na thâl fy addunedau ddim;
  Pechadur wyf, fy Nuw a'i gŵyr,
  'Nawr wedi colli ei nerth yn llwyr.

Pa ham y de'st o'r nefoedd fry,
Ond i gongcwero'r 'ffernol lu?
  Cyflawna'th waith, a gwna dy ran,
  Yn fuan ar fy enaid gwan.

'D oes gweithred dda o'r eiddof fi
All roi im' hawl i'r nefoedd fry;
  'Rwy'n ceisio ymdreiglo at dy waed,
  Gan gwympo'n llaw rugaredd rad.

gwelir: O Arglwydd cofia'th angau drud

My days in the world are only
Like a round handful altogether;
  And vanishing they are, I know not how,
  While sinning against God himself.

I am experiencing faults, great and small,
Now wanting to dishearten me completely;
  Their number, their strength,
      together with their colour,
  Have made my little soul bruised.

I was deceived, I was, woe unto me now,
To break the law of my great Intercessor;
  I regret doing a dishonour
  To the one who loved me the best ever.

Thou forgavest a hundred times,
    forgive this,
Lord bleach me white again;
  Fulfil thy work on my weak soul,
  Until I come up from the vast desert.

Do not strike me, I am under my burden,
I am unable to suffer thy arm's weight;
  God art thou, I am only a man,
  Why kill the work of thy own hand?

I know that efficacious is thy blood,
To argue my right before the Father,
  Make easy the way to the throne of grace,
  And forgive completely my hated faults.

Remember that I am vanity and wind,
And remember my fall in Eden formerly;
  And remember that I am travelling now,
  In a world that is full of great faults.

I am seeing that useless is my force,
It will not pay my vows at all;
  A sinner am I, my God knows it,
  Now having lost his strength completely.

Why camest thou from heaven above,
But to conquer the hellish host?
  Fulfil thy work, and do thy part,
  Soon on my weak soul.

There is no good deed belonging to me
That can give me the right to heaven above;
  I am trying to make my way to thy blood,
  By falling into the hand of free mercy.