Nid wyf ond alltud yma'n byw

Nid wyf ond alltud yma'n byw,
Ac ynof ddrygau o bob rhyw,
A llawer iawn o ddynol-ryw,
  Yn elynion perffaith im';
Fy unig gyssur tan y rhod,
Fod i mi ffyddlon Ffrynd erio'd,
Fe faeddodd droswyf cyn fy mod,
  Fy holl elynion llym.

Mae mywyd gwedi'i guddio gwn,
Cyn creu nef
    na dae'r yn hwn,
Er cymmaint beunydd yw fy mhwn,
  Dihangol wyf yn wir;
Dim damnedigaeth i mi'n awr
Yng nghanol byd
    y cystudd mawr,
Can mil dedwyddach
    uwch y llawr,
  A fyddaf cyn b'o hir.

Mae rhai o'r saint, o ddydd i ddydd,
Yn cael eu gosod yn y pridd,
A finneu sy'n galaru'n brudd,
  Mor ynfyd wyf, O Dduw;
Hwy sydd yn holl-iach yr awr hon,
A finneu'n glwyfus tan fy mron,
'Bryd landia'i'r lan i Salem lon,
  Byth ger dy fron i fyw?

Gwynfyd y dorf sydd yno'n awr,
Yng nghanol y gogoniant mawr,
Na raid ymado funud awr
  A Thywysog mawr y nef;
Edrychant fyth ar wyneb gwyn
Yr hwn a hoeliwyd ar y bryn,
Heb flino ei garu fyth yn llyn,
  Gwyn fyd f'ai gyd ag ef.

Yn nwylo a thraed fy Mhrynwr cu,
Oes ol yr hoelion
    etto fry,
Fel gwlwyd ar y ddaear ddu,
  'Nol marw yn fy lle?
Oes archoll fawr y waywffon,
I'w gweed yno tan ei fron,
Y cyfiawn dros yr anghyfion,
  Fy Noddfa ei glwyfau e'.

Fy Ngheidwad gwethfawr dyma fe,
Aeth tan law'r lleiddiaid yn fy lle,
Fe brynodd i mi deyrnas ne',
  A rh'odd i'm henaid hedd;
Mae undeb sicr rhyngwy'n awr
A Brenin y gre'digaeth fawr,
Ni phydra ei rwymau
    yn llwch y llawr,
  Fe bery draw i'r bedd.

I am only an exile living here,
And in me are evils of every kind,
And very many of human-kind,
  Perfect enemies to me;
My only comfort under the sky,
Is that I have always had Faithful friend
He beat for me, before I was,
  All my keen enemies.

My life was hidden, I know,
Before the creation of heaven
    and earth, in him,
Although I get beaten so much every day,
  Safe I am truly;
No condemnation for me now
In the midst of the world
    of the great tribulation,
A hundred thousad time happier
    above the earth,
  I shall be before long.

There are some saints, from day to day,
Getting put in the soil,
And I who am mourning sadly,
  So foolish am I, O God;
They are whole at this time,
While I wounded under my breast,
When shall I land on cheerful Salem's shore,
  Forever before thee to live?

Blessed is the throng that is there now,
In the middle of the great glory,
Thre is no need to leave now
  The great Prince of heaven;
The look forever on the bright face
Of him who was nailed on the hill,
Without wearying, his love forever sticking,
  Blessed would I be with him.

In the hands and feet of my dear Redeemer,
Are there the marks of the nails
    still above,
As were seen on the black earth,
  After dying in my place?
Is the great wound of the spear,
To be seen under his breast,
The righteous for the unrighteous,
  My Refuge his wounds?

My precious Saviour, there he is,
He underwent many killings in my place,
He purchased for me the kingdom of heaven,
  And gave my soul peace;
There is a secure union between me now
And the King of the great creation,
His bonds will not decay
    in the dust of the earth,
  They will endure beyond the grave.