Pêr fydd dy
gofio Iesu da
A'r galon drist a lawenha;
Na'r mêl a'r mwynder
o bob rhyw
Bod gyda thi melysach yw.
Ni chenir cân bereiddiach ryw,
Nid mwynach dim a glywo clyw;
Melysach bryd ni wybydd dyn
Nag Iesu, Unmab Duw ei hun.
Ti, obaith edifeiriol rai,
Ti wrth gyfeiliorn drugarhai;
A'th geisio,
da wyt iddynt hwy,
I'r rhai a'th gaffo, gymaint mwy!
Ni ddywaid tafod yn y byd,
Nac iaith ysgrifen ynddo i gyd,
O'th ddilyn di
pa beth yw'r fraint:
A brofodd hyn
a ŵyr ei faint.
Goleuni pwyll, llawenydd bryd,
A ffynnon wyt i'r gwir i gyd;
Mwy wyt na phob boddhad dy hun,
A mwy na holl ddymuniad dyn.
Dymunaf fil o weithiau di:
Pa bryd y deui ataf fi?
Pa bryd y doi i'm llawenhau,
A'th roi dy hun
i'm llwyr foddhau?
cyf. (o'r Lladin) T Gwynn Jones 1871-1949
Tonau [MH 8888]: |
Sweet shall be remembering
thee, good Jesus,
And the sad heart shall rejoice;
Than the honey and the tenderness
of every kind
Being with thee is sweeter.
No song of a sweeter kind is to be found,
Nothing more tender sound is to be heard;
No sweeter mind has man known
Than Jesus, the only Son of God himself.
Thou, hope of repentant ones,
Thou, who hast mercy on a straying one;
Whoever seeks thee,
good thou art to them,
To those who find thee, so much more!
No tongue in the world would say,
Nor written language in all of it,
From following thee,
what a thing is the privilege:
'Tis those who experienced this
who know its extent.
O light of wisdom, O joy of mind,
And a fount art thou to all the true;
More art thou thyself than all pleasure,
And more than all the desire of man.
I would ask of thee a thousand times:
When shalt thou come to me?
When shalt thou come to bring me joy,
And give thyself
completely to satisfy me?
tr. 2020 Richard B Gillion
|
Jesus, the very
thought of Thee
With sweetness fills the breast;
But sweeter far
Thy face to see,
And in Thy presence rest.
Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame,
Nor can the memory find
A sweeter sound than Thy blest name,
O Saviour of mankind!
O hope of every contrite heart,
O joy of all the meek,
To those who fall,
how kind Thou art!
How good to those who seek!
But what to those who find? Ah, this
Nor tongue nor pen can show;
The love of Jesus,
what it is,
None but His loved
ones know.
O Jesus, light of all below,
Thou fount of living fire,
Surpassing all the joys we know,
And all we can desire.
Abide with us, and let Thy light
Shine, Lord, on every heart;
Dispel the darkness of our night;
And joy to
all impart.
tr. Edward Caswall 1814-78Lyra Catholica 1849
from the 12th-Century Latin Hymn Bernard of Clairvaux 1090-1153
Tunes [CM 8686]: |