O deuwn yn ddiduedd

O deuwn yn ddiduedd
  Yn awr at orsedd Duw,
Myfyriwn am ei fawredd,
  Mor dda a rhyfedd yw;
Sef i rai anniolchgar,
  Hil rhai rhodresgar drwg,
Sy'n haeddu byw'n dragwyddol,
  Oll tan ei ysol ŵg!

Ystyriwn oll ei allu
  A dwfr i wlychu'r wlad,
I dduo cnwd y ddaear,
  A braenu'r hawddgar hâd;
Na chawsem had i'r hauwr,
  Nac i'r bwytäwr têg,
Mwy i'w ddifyru fara
  I'w gylla nac i'w gêg.

Holl ddyfroedd moroedd mawrion,
  A'r tân, ei weision ŷnt;
A'r ddaear fawr yn ddiau,
  A holl agweddau'r gwynt:
Pan roddo Duw orchymyn,
  Fe ddaw pob un heb ball,
I ryfel, bawb mor ufudd
  I'w Llywydd fel y llall.

Pan alwo'r haul i boethi,
  Neu losgi unrhyw le,
Neu'r dyfroedd i ddystrywio,
  Hwy wnant a fyno 'Fe;
Fe lwnc y ddaear ddynion
  Yn anufuddion f'o -
Ei lef wna'r dŵr i lifo,
  A dryllio yn ei dro.

Os geilw'r gwynt i chwythu,
  Neu ynte i wlychu wlaw,
Y ddau wrth ei orchymyn,
  Yn gosb ar ddyn a ddaw:
Fe all â'i dân felltenu,
  A'r dwfr i wlychu, â'i lef,
Fel pe'r ymrwygai'r eigion
  Wrth dwrf ei weision Ef.

Ni glywsom amryw droiau
  Dwrf yr elfenau yn fawr,
Fel rhai f'ai yn ymryson
  Yn llymion uwch y llawr,
I ddyfod am y cyntaf,
  A chwyrnaf, i roi chwâl
Ar waeledd annuwiolion,
  Dros Dduw, er dwysion dâl.

Yr Arglwydd sy'n eu ffrwyno,
  Rhag iddynt d'rawo'n drwm,
Fe wêl ei hun mor waelaidd
  A saled yw ein swm;
Ei weision yw clefydau,
  A heintiau blin o hyd,
Sy'n fynych mewn rhyw fanau
  Neu barthau yn y byd.

Ei was oedd y Cholera
  Wnai yma grynfa groch,
Trwy'n gwlad y tröai'n g'ledi,
  A llu i waeddi, Och!
O'r diwedd fe'n gwrandawyd,
  Symudwyd iasau'r
      march,
Aeth miloedd tan ei garnau
  I'w beddau'n
      llwyr ddibarch.

Ond Duw sydd yn teyrnasu,
  Er hyny, ar yr hin;
I Dduw mae'r holl elfenau,
  A'r t'ranau'n hawdd eu trin;
Gwna'r moroedd yn dymherus,
  Er mor arswydus ŷnt, -
Llonyddodd dwrf y tònau,
  A'i nefol gamrau gynt.

Gall ddal y gwynt tymhestlog
  Yn ei ddiysgog ddwrn,
A'r gwres, rhag llosgi ei bobl
  Mewn tân effeithiol ffwrn:
Os dywed Duw, Dystawa,
  Arafa, er dy rym,
Try'n awel dawel dywydd,
  A llonydd, - nid yn llym.

Yr Arglwydd sy'n teyrnasu,
  Rhown iddo felly fawl,
Mae'n deilwng o'i ogoniant,
  Ei haeddiant yw a'i hawl;
A'n dyled yw ei dalu,
  Trwy anrhydeddu Duw,
A'i foli yn ofalus,
  Yn bwyllus, tra f'om byw.

Pe galwai Duw ei weision
  I wneyd gorchwylion chwith,
A'u danfon hwynt yn heintiau,
  Neu'r pläau yn ein plith;
Hwy wnaent y peth a fynai,
  Fel yr ordeiniai Duw,
Ein lladd ar fyr yn feirw,
  Neu'n fodd i'n cadw'n fyw.

Mor hawdd i Dduw f'ai'n rhoddi
  I boeni hyd y bedd,
Yn lle rhoi ymborth iachus
  I ni'n haelionus wledd!
Gallasai alw eilwaith
  Wlybaniaeth ar y byd,
I bydru cnwd y ddaear,
  A difa'r hygar ŷd.

Gallasai gau ein llesol
  Yd bara'n ol er neb,
Wrth gadw'r ddaear dano,
  Trwy fynych wlawio, 'n wleb;
Ond danfon gwres i'w grasu,
  A'i ymgeleddu'n glyd,
I'w gael, er maint ein gwaeledd,
  Yn nghyr'edd pawb ynghyd.

Cydganwn ei ogoniant,
  A'i foliant yn ddifêth,
Yr Arglwydd yn ddiammheu
  A biau bob rhyw beth;
Gall wneuthur fel y myno
  A'i hynod eiddo'i hun, -
O! rwydded y mae'n rhoddi
  O'i fawr ddaioni i ddyn!

Ein bendigedig Geidwad,
  O'i rad ddarpariad pell,
Cymhwysai gnwd y maesydd,
  Er cynnydd, i bob cell;
Haelionus yw eleni,
  Mae'n rhoddi i ni'n rhad,
Yn ddiau gnwd y ddaear,
  Mor liwgar yn y wlad.

O let us come unbiased
  Now to God's throne,
Let us meditate on his greatnes,
  How good and wonderful he is;
That is, to the ungateful,
  The race of those boastfully evil,
Who are deserving to live eternally,
  All under his consuming frown!

Let us all consider his power
  With water to drench the land,
To blacken the crop of the earth,
  And rot the beautiful seed;
We had no seed for the sower,
  Nor for the fair eater,
Any more to please him with bread
  For his stomach nor for his mouth.

All the waters of great seas,
  And the fire, his servants are;
And the great earth doubtless,
  And all the aspects of the wind:
When God gives a command,
  Everything comes without fail,
To war, everyone so obedient
  To the Governor like the others.

When he calls the sun to heat,
  Or burn any place,
Or the waters to destroy,
  They do what He wills;
The earth swallows men
  Be they disobedient -
His cry makes the water to flow,
  And demolish in its turn.

If he calls the wind to blow,
  Or, alternatively, the rain to drench,
Both at his command,
  A punishment on man to come:
He can with his fire send lightning,
  And the water to drench, with his cry,
As if the ocean were rending
  At the din of His servants.

We have heard many times
  The din of his elements greatly,
Like those that would be in contention
  Sharply above the ground,
To come for the first,
  And swirl, to put a scattering
On the baseness of the ungodly,
  For God, for the intense ones to hold.

The Lord is reining them,
  Lest they strike heavily,
He himself sees how base
  And poorly is their sum;
His servants are diseases,
  And grievous infections still,
Which abound in some places
  Or regions of the world.

His servant was the cholera,
  Which made here a fierce fever,
Throughout our land hard times,
  And a host to shout, Oh!
Eventually we were heard,
  The shudderings of the stallion
      were moved,
Thousands went under his hooves
  To their graves completely
      without reverence.

But it is God who is reigning,
  Despite this, over the weather;
To God are all the elements,
  and the thunderings easily dealt with;
He makes the seas mild,
  Although so horrific they are, -
He calmed the din of the waves,
  With his heavenly steps of old.

He can hold the tempestuous wind
  In his unshaking fist,
And the heat, from burning his people
  In the fire of an effective furnace:
If God says, Be quiet,
  Slow down, despite thy force,
Turn into a breeze of quiet weather,
  A be calm, - not sharp.

It is the Lord who is reigning,
  Let us give to him, then, praise,
He is worthy of his glory,
  He merit it is and his right;
And our duty is to pay it,
  Through the honouring of God,
And to praise carefully,
  Wisely, while ever we live.

If God called his servants
  To do awkward tasks,
And sent them as infections,
  Or the plagues amongst us;
They would do the thing he willed,
  As God would ordain,
To slay us dead shortly,
  Or as a means to keep us alive.

How easy for God would be to put us
  To pain until the grave,
Instead of giving healthy succour
  For us to feast abundantly!
He could call again
  Wetness on the world,
To rot the crow of the earth,
  And destroy the pleasant grain.

He could close our beneficial
  Bread grain back for no-one's benefit,
By keeping the earth under it,
  Through frequent raining, wet;
But he sends warmth to dry it,
  And to succour us securely,
To get it, despite our baseness,
  Reaching everyone together.

Let us chorus his glory,
  And his praise unfailingly,
It is the Lord undoubtedly
  Who possesses every kind of thing;
He can do what he wills
  With his own notable possession, -
O may he increasingly be giving
  Of his great goodness to man!
  
Our blessed Saviour,
  Of his free, distant provision,
Would qualify the crop of the fields,
  In order to grow, for every cell;
Generous he is this year,
  He is giving to us freely,
Doubtlessly the crop of the earth,
  So colourful in the land.