O na foed ardal cyn bo hir, O'r dwyrain i'r gorllewin dir, Na byddo'r iachawdwriaeth ddrud Yn llanw cyrrau'r rhain i gyd. O doed i ben hapusaf ddydd, Darfydded sôn am bethau sydd, Na'r byd, na'i rwysg, na'i wae, na'i boen, Ond canu byth am waed yr Oen. Dewch, addewidion, dewch yn awr, Dihidlwch eich trysorau i lawr; Myrddiynau ar fyrddiynau sydd Yn disgwyl am y bore ddydd. Doed gogledd, de a dwyrain pell I glywed y newyddion gwell, Ac eled sŵn Efengyl gras Yn gylch oddeutu'r ddaear las.
Tonau [MH 8888]:
gwelir: |
O that there be no region before long, From the East to the Western land, Where the costly salvation not be Filling the corners of them all. O let the happiest day come to pass, Let mention of the things that are perish, And the world, and its ostentation, and its woe, and its pain, But singing forever about the blood of the Lamb. Come, promises, come now, Drop your treasures down; Myriads upon myriads are Waiting for your dawning day. Let North, South and distant East come To hear the better news, And let the sound of the Gospel of grace go Around about the blue-green earth. tr. 2008,23 Richard B Gillion |
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