O na chlywn yr utgorn arian

O na chlywn yr utgorn arian,
  Yn cyhoeddi'n eglur iawn,
Bellach i fy enaid llwythog,
  Heddwch a maddeuant llawn,
O na ddeuai nerth i wared,
  Fel llifeiriant mawr ei rym,
Fel na allai'm nwydau pennaf,
  Mwyach ei wrthsefyll ddim.

Mi edrychaf ar i fynu,
  Deued t'w'llwch, deued nos;
Os daw heddwch im' o un lle,
  Daw o haeddiant
      gwaed y groes,
Dyna'r man
    y gwnaf fy nhrigfan,
  Yma y gobeithiaf mwy,
Nid oes iechyd byth i'm henaid,
  Ond mewn dwyfol farwol glwy'.

Dyma'r man y byddai marw,
  A fy ngolwg tu a'r nef;
Mi ddisgwyliaf hyd y wawr ddydd,
  Am ei bresenoldeb ef:
A phe cawn ond gwel'd y seren,
  Sydd yn blaenu bore'r wawr,
Wrth ei golau awn yn wrol,
  Trwy bob rhwystrau fach a mawr.

Nid oes ffynnon wedi ei hagor,
  Ag all olchi'r euog hyn;
Ond y ffynnon a agorodd,
  Cariad ar Galfaria fryn:
Gwaed all dalu'n llwyr am feiau,
  Gwaed all agor porth y nef;
Ac nid oes foddlona'r nefoedd,
  Ond ei haeddiant dwyfol Ef.

Dacw'r un sydd a thosturi,
  Fe fu'n hongian ar y groes;
Fe fu'n gruddfan dan dywyllwch,
  Tywyllwch dudew fel y nos:
Mîl boenau wasgodd arno,
  Etto darfu iddo eu dwyn,
Aeth i garchar gan yr angeu,
  Ran dridiau er fy mwyn.

Tyred f'enaid ar i fynu,
  Allan o'r anialwch maith;
Hiraeth sy arnaf am gael gweled,
  Gwledydd hyfryd pen fy nhaith:
Blino'n teithio'r creigydd geirwon,
  Lle 'rwy'n wastad yn cael briw;
Ac fe'm clwyfid i farwolaeth,
  On' ba'i cariad rhad fy Nuw.

Tan dy aden byddaf ddedwydd,
  Tan dy aden câf gasau,
A galaru yn ddrylliedig
  Am bob pechod a phob bai;
Tan ei aden, ar bob chwantau,
  Y câf fi fudduguliaeth lawn,
Ac y câf ddifyrwch tawel,
  O foreu-ddydd hyd brydnawn.

              - - - - -

O na chlywn yr utgorn arian,
  Rhywbryd yn rhoi bloedd i maes,
Yn cyhoeddi i'm enaid llwythog,
  Heddwch a maddeuol ras;
O! na ddeuai nerth i waered,
  Fel llifeiriant mawr ei rym,
Fel na allai 'mhennaf nwydau,
  Bellach ei wrthsefyll ddim.

Mi rown fydoedd maith,
    pe meddwn,
  Am gael gweled torri i lawr
Bethau ag sy'n myn'd â'm meddwl
  Fil o weithiau yn yr awr;
Trais a gorchest sy ar fy ysbryd,
  Cryf yw 'ngelyn, minnau'n wan;
Addfwyn Oen, yn fuan brysia,
  Cod fi o'r pydew hwn i'r lan.

gwelir:
  Dacw'r Un sydd a thosturi
  Dan fy maich yr wyf yn griddfan
  Mae rhyw foroedd drugaredd
  Mi edrychaf ar i fyny
  O fy enaid gwan nag ofna
  Rwy' fi'n dechreu teimlo eisoes
  Ti yw 'mywyd Ti yw'm gobaith

Oh that I could hear the silver trumpet,
  Announcing very clearly,
Henceforth for my burdened soul,
  Peace and full forgiveness,
Oh that there would come strength to get rid,
  Like a torrent of great force,
Such that my chief lusts could
  No longer withstand at all.

I will look up,
  Let darkness come, let night come;
If peace comes to me from one place,
  It will come from the virtue
      of the blood of the cross,
That is the place
    I will make my dwelling-place,
  Here I shall hope henceforth,
There is no health ever for my soul,
  But in a divine mortal wound.

Here is the place I would die,
  With my gaze towards heaven;
I shall wait until the dawn of day,
  For his presence:
And if I could only see the star,
  Which is leading the morning dawn,
By its light let us go bravely,
  Through all obstacles small and great.

No fount has been opened
  Which can wash this guilty one;
But the fount which love
  Opened on Calvary hill:
Blood which can pay fully for faults,
  Blood which can open the portal of heaven;
And nothing satisfies the heavens,
  But His divine merit.

There is one who has mercy,
  He was hanging on the cross;
He was groaning under darkness,
  Thick, black darkness like the night:
A thousand griefs pressed upon him,
  Still he died to take them,
He went to prison by death,
  A portion of three days for my sake.

Come, my soul, up
  Out of the vast desert;
I have a longing to get to see,
  Delightful lands at the end of my journey:
Wearily travelling the rough rocks,
  Where I am coninually getting bruised;
And I would be wounded to death,
  Except for God's gracious love.

Under thy wing I shall be happy,
  Under thy wing I shall get to hate,
And lament brokenly
  For every sin and every fault;
Under his wing, over all desires,
  I shall get a full victory,
And I shall get quiet pleasure,
  From morning until evening.

                - - - - -

O that I would hear the silver trumpet,
  Sometime giving out a shout,
Announcing to my burdened soul,
  Peace and forgiving grace;
O that strength would come to the bottom,
  Like a stream of great force,
That the chief of my lusts could
  No longer withstand it at all.

I would give vast worlds,
    if I possessed them,
  To get to see the breaking down
Of the things that are taking my mind
  A thousand times in the hour;
Violence and oppression are upon my spirit,
  Strong is my enemy, whereas i am weak;
Gentle Lamb, hurry soon,
  Raise me up from this pit.