Nid yw'r haul a'i faith fendithion

Nid yw'r haul a'i faith fendithion,
  Bywyd hardd y ddaear las,
Sy'n llawenu pob creadur,
  Yn enwedig llysiau'r maes;
'Dyw ei harddwch a'i oleuni,
  A'i effeithiau ar y llawr,
Onid dim, wrth eu cymmharu
  A rhinweddau Iesu mawr.

Dyma'r gwrthddrych wyf yn caru
  Gwel'd ei degwch, hyfryd wawr;
Peidied da, a pheidied dynion,
  Peidied cyfoeth daear fawr,
Peidient sefyll yn ei gysgod,
  Ciliwch, ciliwch, rhoddwch le, -
Ni chaiff dim o tan yr wybren
  Rwystro'm henaid ato 'fe.

Bynag peth sydd mewn creadur,
  Fry, neu yma îs y rhôd,
Neu beth bynag a ddych'mygwyd
  Mewn creaduriaid enwog fod;
Saint, merthyron, a phrophwydi,
  Draw o ddechreu
       i ddiweda byd;
Can' mil mwy o bethau'n rhagor
  Sydd yn Iesu mawr ynghyd.

Holl angylion nef gwmpasog,
  Sydd o nifer gwlith y wawr,
Pe bai'u tegwch a'u rhinweddau
  Oll mewn un rhyw angel mawr;
T'wyllai'i harddwch mewn munydyn,
  Toddai'i ddoniau maith yn un,
Wrth ymddangos i'w gymmharu
  A'r hwn wisgodd natur dyn.

O distawa! 'nghalon yhfyd,
  Na chais wrthddrych arall mwy;
Digon, mwy na digon ydyw,
  A ddioddefodd farwol glwy';
Ffarwel, ddaear, a'i gwrthddrychau,
  Nid wyt ond y twyll i gyd;
Uwch y wybren mae'r blaguryn
  Dâl roi arno'm
     serch a'm bryd.

gwelir: Wyneb siriol fy Anwylyd

The sun with its vast blessings is not,
  The beautiful life of the blue-green earth,
Which is cheering every creature,
  Especially the plants of the field;
Its beauty and its light are not,
  With its effects on the ground,
Anything at all, in comparison
  To the virtues of great Jesus.

Here is the object I am loving
  To see his fairness, a delightful dawn;
Let beasts cease, and let men cease,
  Let the great earth's rich ones stop,
Let them stop and stand in his shadow,
  Retreat ye, retreat ye, give ye way, -
Nothing under the sky shall
  Keep my soul from him.

Whatever is in a creature,
  Above, or here under the sky,
Or whatever has been imagined
  In creatures of a famous being;
Saints, martyrs, and prophets,
  Yonder from the beginning
      to the end of the world;
A hundred thousand time more things superior
  Are in great Jesus altogether.

All the angels of heaven encircling,
  Which are numerous as the dew of the dawn,
If their fairness and their merits were
  All in one great angel;
His beauty would darken in a minute,
  His vast gifts would melt as one,
ON appearing in comparison
  To him who wore the nature of man.

O be silent, foolish heart!
  Do not seek another object any more;
Sufficient, more than sufficient he is,
  And he suffered a mortal wound;
Farewell, earth, and its objects,
  Thou art nothing but all deception;
Above the sky there is the shoot
  To keep putting on it my
      affection and my attention.