Pa bryd y daw'r wlad i alaru

Pa bryd y daw'r wlad i alaru,
  Pan fyddo pob teulu'n gyttun;
A theulu tŷ
    Dafydd yn dyfod,
  Sef pob tuelu'n dra hynod ei hun:
A theulu tŷ
    Lefi'n wylofain,
  A'r gwragedd eu hunain yn hardd,
A'u dagrau yn ffrydiau cyffredin,
  Fel gwlith ar yr egin yn 'r ardd.

Wrth edrych ar hwnw wanasant,
  Pryd hyny galarant tan glwy,
Fel un am ei unig-anedig, neu'r
  Afiach am feddyg, neu'n fwy;
Ac yno trŷ'n wylo pan welant,
  Galarant, edrychant yn drist,
Pan gofiant ei chwys,
    a'r achosion
  O loesion mor greulon ar Grist.

Pan dywallt yr Arglwydd fendithion,
  Ei hen addewidion fe ddaw
O lygaid oedd beunydd yn sychion,
  Rhed dagru rai gloywon fel gwlaw;
Pan ddel Yspryd gras a gweddïau,
  I fwydo'r calonnau, e fydd
Y gruddiau i raddau'n ireiddiach,
  Ac hefyd yn decach bob dydd.

Os felly, am hyny dymunwn,
  Ymbiliwn, gweddiwn yn ddwys,
Ar Dduw am dywalltiad o'i Ysbryd,
  Mae matter ein bywyd o bwys;
Ceir clywed a gweled y galar,
  Pan droir y gallesr yn llyn;
I'r crasdir fe benir
    glwybaniaeth,
  A red yn dra helaeth drwy hyn.

O deued a brysied y breision,
  A'r llawn addewidion di-wall,
I esgor hen drysor
    rhad-rasol,
  Rhyfeddol da buddiol heb ball;
Nes delo'r anialwch yn ddoldir,
  A'r dol-dir yn goed-dir i gyd;
Puredig rasusau paradwys,
  Yn rhoddi gwedd
      bur-lwys i'r byd.

Wrth edrych ar Berson anfeidrol
  Yn dïoddef i'w bobl gael byw;
A chanfod ei drallod
    a'r dryllio
  Fu arno 'rol
      deffro cledd Duw;
A hwnw'n trywanu trwy'i enaid
  Diniweid, heb arbed y boen;
Ni ddrylliwyd un gelyn mor galed
  A chorph a phur enaid yr Oen.

When the land comes to mourn,
  When every family is in agreement;
And the family of the house
    of David coming,
  That is every family so notable itself:
And the family of the house
    of Levi lamenting,
  And the women themselves beautifully,
With their tears as common streams,
  Like dew on the shoot in the garden.

On looking on him whom they had pierced,
  The they will mourn under a wound,
Like one for his only-begotten, or the
  Unwell for a physician, or more;
And then turn to crying when they see,
  They will mourn, they will look sadly,
When they remember his sweat,
    and the causes
  Of agonies so cruel on Christ.

When the Lord pours out blessings,
  His old promises will come
From eyes which were daily dry,
  Shall run tears, those shiny like rain;
When the spirit of grace and prayers comes,
  To feed the hearts, it will be
The cheeks gradually more anointed,
  And also fairer every day.

If so, for this I wish,
  I plead, I pray fervently,
To God for an outpouring of his Spirit,
  It is a matter of our life of weight;
To be heard and seen is the mourning,
  When the flint is turned into a lake;
To the parched-land is wetness
    to be apportioned,
  Which will run so broadly through this.

O let the fat ones come and hurry,
  With the full, sincere promises,
To give birth to the old,
    free, gracious treasure,
  Wonderful good beneficial without fading;
Until and desert becomes meadow-land
  And the meadow-land all a woodland;
Purified graces of paradise,
  Giving a pure-comely
      countenance to the world.

On looking on his infinite Person
  Suffering for his people to get to live;
And discerning his trouble
    and the shattering
  Which was on him after
      awakening God's sword;
And that stabbing through his soul
  Innocent, without sparing the pain;
No enemy was shattered so hard
  As the body and pure soul of the Lamb.