O fel mae'th drugareddau Ior

How do thy mercies close me round

(Cydnabod daioni Duw)
O fel mae'th drugareddau, Ior,
  Yn fy amgylchu ddydd a nos!
Maent fel rhyw faith ddiderfyn fôr
  A diwedd arnynt byth nid oes.

Nid felly'r oedd ar Brynwr byd,
  Dyoddefodd ef dylodi mawr:
Er maeddu hawl
    i'r byd i gyd,
  'Doedd ganddo le 'roi ben i lawr.

Ond wele! paratôdd i mi
  Bob peth wrth raid, mewn anedd glyd;
I'm cadw mae angylion lu
  O'm hamgylch beunydd yn y byd.

Gorsphyso'r wyf dan nodded Naf,
  Heb fraw na dychryn dan fy mron:
Rhoi pwys fy enaid arno wnaf
  Tra byddaf ar y ddaear hon.

Llonyddu yn dy gariad 'ryw',
  Rhoist imi hawl
      i'r nefoedd fry;
Ac nis gadewi mo'nwyf mwy,
  Tra'r ymddiriedwyf ynot it.
cyf. Cas. o Hymnau ... Wesleyaidd 1844

Tonau [MH 8888]:
Luther's Chant (Heinrich C Zeuner 1795-1857)
Rockingham (Edward Miller 1731-1807)

(Regocnising the goodness of God)
Oh, so are thy mercies, Lord,
  Surrounding me day and night!
They are like some vast, endless sea
  And there is never any end to them.

Not so it was for the Redeemer of the world,
  He suffered great poverty:
Although possessing the right
    to all the world,
  He had no place to lay his head.

But see! he prepared for me
  Everything at need, in a secure dwelling;
To keep me, there is a host of angels
  Around me daily in the world.

I will rest under the protection of a Chief,
  Without terror or horror under my breast:
Lean my soul on him I will
  While ever I am on this earth.

Be cheerful in thy love I will be,
  Thou gavest to me
      the right to heaven above;
And thou will not leave me any more,
  While I trust in thee.
tr. 2015 Richard B Gillion
 
How do Thy mercies close me round!
  For ever be Thy name adored;
I blush in all things to abound;
  The servant is above his Lord!

Inured to poverty and pain,
  A suff'ring life my Master led:
The Son of God,
    the Son of man,
  He had not where to lay His head.

But lo! a place He hath prepared
  For me, whom watchful angels keep;
Yea, He himself becomes my guard;
  He smooths my bed and gives me sleep.

I rest beneath th'Almighty's shade,
  My griefs expire, my troubles cease;
Thou, Lord, on whom my soul is stay'd,
  Wilt keep me still in perfect peace.

Me for Thine own Thou lov'st to take
  In time
      and in eternity;
Thou never, never wilt forsake
  A helpless worm that trusts in Thee.
Charles Wesley 1707-88

Tunes [MH 8888]:
Federal Street (1832 Henry Kemble Oliver 1800-85)
Harmony Grove (1839 Henry Kemble Oliver 1800-85)
Saxby / Storrs (Timothy R Matthews 1826-1910)

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.'

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