O flaen y fainc rhaid sefyll

O flaen y fainc rhaid sefyll,
  Ië, sefyll cyn bo hir;
Nid oes a'm nertha i yno
  Ond dy gyfiawnder pur:
Myfi anturia'n ëon,
  Trwy ddyfroedd a thrwy dân
Heb oleu ac heb lewyrch,
  Ond dy gyfiawnder glân.

Ti Farnwr byw a meirw,
  Sydd ag allweddau'r bedd,
Terfynau eitha'r ddaiar
  Sy'n disgwyl am dy hedd:
'Dyw gras i Ti ond gronyn,
  Mae gras, ar hyn o bryd,
Ryw filoedd maith o weithiau
  I mi yn well na'r byd.

Pwy ddyry im' falm o Gilead,
  Maddeuant pur a hedd,
Nes gwnend i'm hyspryd edrych
  Heb ofni ar y bedd;
A diangc ar wasgfeuon,
  Euogrwydd creulon crŷ'?
'Does ond yr hwn a hoeliwyd
  Ar fynydd Calfari.

Mae yma fôr o gysur,
  Yn llifo i fy rhan;
Er bod holl rwydau Satan,
  Yn erbyn f'enaid gwan:
Bwriadwyd oll eu torri,
  A'r bwriad ddaw i ben,
Mor siwr a'r bwriad hwnnw,
  O farw ar y pren.

Tôn [7676D]: Aberystwyth (<1829)

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O flaen y fainc rhaid sefyll,
 Ië, sefyll cyn b'o hir;
Nid oes a'm nertha yno
  Ond Dy gyfiawnder pur:
Myfi anturia'n ëon
  Trwy ddyfroedd a thrwy dân,
Heb oleu ac heb lewyrch,
  Ond Dy gyfiawnder glân.
    Glân, glân,
  Ond Dy gyfiawnder glân;
Heb oleu ac heb lewyrch,
  Ond Dy gyfiawnder glân.

Ni fuasai genyf obaith
  Am ddim ond fflamau syth,
Y pryf nad yw yn marw,
  A'r t'w'llwch dudew byth,
Oni buasai i'r Hwn a hoeliwyd
  Ar fynydd Calfari,
O ryw anfeidrol gariad,
  I gofio am danaf fi.
    Fi! fi! 
  I gofio am danaf fi.
O ryw anfeidrol gariad,
  I gofio am danaf fi.

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gwelir:
  Angylion doent yn gyson
  Pwy ddyry im' falm Gilead?
  Ti Farnwr byw a meirw

Before the throne one must stand,
  Yes, stand before long;
There is nothing that strengthens me there
  But thy pure righteousness:
I shall venture fearlessly,
  Through water and through fire
Without a light and without a gleam,
  But thy holy righteousness.

Thou Judge of living and dead,
  Who hast the keys of the grave,
The extreme ends of the earth
  Are waiting for thy peace:
Grace is nothing to Thee but a grain,
  Grace is, at this time,
Some thousands of times greater
  To me better than the world.

Who will give me the balm of Gilead,
  Pure forgiveness and peace,
Until making my soul look
  Without fear at the grave,
And escape from the tight places
  Of strong, cruel guilt?
There is no-one but He who was nailed
  On mount Calvary.

There is here a sea of comfort,
  Flowing to my part;
Despite all the snares of Satan,
  Against my weak soul:
It was planned to break them all,
  And the plan has come to fulfilment,
As sure as that plan,
  Of dying on the tree.

- - - - -
Before the throne one must stand,
  Yes, stand before long;
There is nothing that strengthens me there
  But thy pure righteousness:
I shall venture fearlessly,
  Through water and through fire
Without a light and without a gleam,
  But thy holy righteousness.
    Holy, holy,
  But thy holy righteousness;
Without a light and without a gleam,
  But thy holy righteousness.

I would have no hope
  Of anything but immediate flame,
The worm that is not dying,
  And the thick black darkness forever,
Unless it were for Him who was crucified
  On mount Calvary,
From some infinite love,
  To remember me.
    Me, me!
  To remember me.
From some infinite love,
  To remember me.

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