Mae'n perthyn i mi bob rhyw bla

Mae'n perthyn i mi bob rhyw bla,
O'r pridd y des, i'r pridd yr â',
  Fe ỳr cystuddiau maith ryw bryd,
  Fy enaid llesg i maes o'r byd;
Ac mi gaf yn mhob chwerw loes,
I wel'd yr hwn fu ar y groes,
  A chael cydymaith yn mhob man,
  A ddeil fy ysbryd llesg i'r lan.

Fy enaid tua'r nefoedd 'hed,
A thaen dy galon yno ar led,
  A doed cystuddiau mewn yn lli,
  Mi a'u tafla i dy fynwes di;
'Does unrhyw ofid,
    unrhyw boen,
Na wasgodd ar yr addfwyn Oen,
  Ac yn ei ofid ef a'i gri,
  Mae holl esmwythder fy enaid i.

Mi wn mae'm beiau duon drud,
Yw'r achos o'm cystuddiau gyd,
  Symud fy mai,
      fe gwymp y ffon,
  O'th sanctaidd law y fynyd hon;
'Does yn dy galon ond lleshad,
Maddeuant, hedd, a gwir iachad,
  Cymer dy ffordd, ynot yr wyf
  Yn credu'n awr, iachâ fy nghlwyf.

gwelir:
  Fy enaid tua'r nefoedd 'hed
  O tyr'd i ben ddedwyddaf ddydd

Every kind of plague belongs to me,
From the soil I came, to the soil I go,
  The vast affliction shall drive sometime,
  My feeble soul out of the world;
And I shall get in every bitter pang,
To see him who died on the cross,
  And get a companion in every place,
  Who will hold my feeble spirit up.

My soul, towards heaven fly,
And spread thy heart there abroad,
  And let afflictions come in as a flood,
  I shall cast them to thy bosom;
There is no kind of grief,
    no kind of pain,
That did not press upon the gentle Lamb,
  And in his grief and his cry,
  Is all the relief of my soul.

I know that my black, costly faults,
Are the cause of all my afflictions,
  My fault shall move,
      the staff shall fall,
  From thy sacred hand that minute;
There is nothing in thy heart but benefit,
Forgiveness, peace, and true healing,
  Take thy way, in thee I am
  Believing now, heal my wound!