O Arglwydd bryd ca'i fynd o'm briw?

(Hiraeth am Ymddattod, Phil. i. 23.)
O Arglwydd bryd ca'i fynd o'm briw,
Yn iach o'r byd,
    'r wi 'nawr yn byw;
  Ei flino câ's fy enaid cu,
  Dwg fi i'r lan, at nefol lu.

Dedwyddwch gwn, 'does yma i'w gael,
Ond gystudd, gwae, a phleser gwael;
  Am artre' fry, mae nhalon friw,
  Mae Mhriod byth, yw'r Iesu byw.

Fy esgyrn swrth, blinedig sy,
Am orphwys yn y ddaear ddu,
  Nes clywed bloedd
      archangel mawr,
  Yn galw'm llwch i'r lan o'r llawr.

O Iesu pur d'wed im' ai pell,
Yw'r ffordd i fynd i'r ddinas gwell?
  Gelynion câs a ddoent hwy'm cwrdd
  'Nol i mi ffoi o Fesech ffwrdd?

Dwg fi i'r lan, moes im' dy law,
Agored drws y nefoedd draw;
  Angylion fil, groesawant fi,
  I dawel fryn Caersalem fry.

Fy nagrau sych fy Iesu ffwrdd,
A thristwch câs,
    byth mwy ni'm cwrdd:
  Mewn nefoedd glyd, heb arna'i glwy;
  Le nas a'i weld gelynion mwy.

Yn gadarn byth y byddaf byw
Yn golofn nadd, yn nhy fy Nuw:
  Ar Seion fryn y lle heb frâd,
  Yn nofio'n rhwydd, mewn cariad rhâd.
William Williams 1717-91
Aleluia 1749

Tôn [MH 8888]: Green's (<1811)

(Longing for Release, Philippians 1:23)
O Lord, when may I go from my bruise,
Whole from the world,
    where I am now living;
  My dear soul has become grieved,
  Draw me up to a heavenly host.

Happiness, I know, is not to be found here,
But affliction, woe, and base pleasure;
  For a home above, my heart aches,
  My own One forever, is the living Jesus.

My sore, weary bones are
Wanting to rest in the black earth,
  Until hearing the shout
      of the great archangel,
  Calling my dust up from the ground.

O pure Jesus, tell me, is the road
Far to go to the better city?
  Would detestable enemies come to meet me
  After I flee away from Mesech?

Draw me up, give me thy hand,
May the door of yonder heaven open;
  A thousand angels, they welcome me,
  To the quiet hill of Jerusalem above.

My tears shall my Jesus dry away,
And detestable sadness,
    nevermore shall meet us:
  In cosy heaven, with no wound upon me;
  Where no enemies are to be seen any more.

Firm forever I shall live
A carved pillar, in the house of my God:
  On Zion hill, the place without treason,
  Swimming freely, in gracious love.
tr. 2020 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.'

~ Emynau a Thonau ~ Caneuon ~ Cerddi ~ Lyrics ~ Home ~