Pe meddwn ar dafodau doeth
Angylion ac areithwyr coeth,
Os na fydd cariad gydâ rhai'n,
Wyf megis efydd gwag ei sain.
Pe bawn o'r dawn i draethu'n hy'
Ddirgelion nef ac uffern ddu,
Neu allu o'm ffydd i symmud byd,
Heb gariad dim wyf etto o hyd.
Fe bawn yn rhoddi, megis brawd,
Fy nhrysor oll i borthi'r tlawd,
Neu roi fy nghorph i losgi i'r tân,
Gael enw Merthyr
clodfawr glân.
I Dduw a Dyn, os Cariad fydd
Yn brin, fy ngobaith ofer fydd:
Nid tafod tanllyd, sel na dawn
All wneud gwaith cariad byth yn llawn.
allu o'm ffydd :: feddu ffydd dim wyf etto :: nid wyf ddim :: dim wyf fi Fy nhrysor oll :: Fy näoedd oll :: Fy nghyfoeth oll Neu rhoi fy nghorph :: A'm corf i losgi :: yn rhwydd Gael enw merthyr clodfawr :: Am enw merthyr clodfawr Er ynnill enw Merthyr fy ngobaith ofer :: fy ngwaith yn ofer I Dduw :: At Dduw
cyf.Dafydd Jones 1711-77
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If I spoke with the wise tongues
Of angels and cultured orators,
If there is not love with these,
I am like an empty-sounding brass.
If I were of a talent to expound boldly
The secrets of heaven and black hell,
Or able by my faith to move a world,
Without love I am still nothing at all.
If I were to give, like a brother,
All my treasure to feed the poor,
Or give my body to burn in the fire,
To get a holy, praiseworthy
martyr's name.
To God and man if love is
Wanting, my hope is vain:
Not a fiery tongue, zeal, or talent,
Can ever fully do the work of love.
able by my faith :: possess a faith to I am still nothing :: I am nothing :: I am nothing All my treasure :: All my goods :: All my wealth Or give my body :: And my body to burn :: freely To get a ... praiseworthy martyr's name :: For a praiseworthy martyr's name To win a martyr's name fy ngobaith ofer :: fy ngwaith yn ofer my hope vain :: my work vain tr. 2008,19 Richard B Gillion |
Did I possess the gift of tongues,
But were deny'd thy grace;
My loudest words - my loftiest songs,
Would be but sounding brass.
Though thou should'st give
me heavenly skill
Each mystery to explain;
If I'd no heart to do thy will
My knowledge would be vain.
Had I so strong a faith, my God!
As mountains to remove;
No faith could do me real good,
That did not work by love.
What though, to gratify my pride,
And make my heave secure,
All my possessions I divide
Among the hungry poor;
What though my body I consign
To the devouring flame,
In hope the glorious deed will shine
In rolls of endless fame!
These splendid acts of vanity,
Though all the world applaud,
If destitute of charity,
Can ever please my God.
Isaac Watts 1674-1748
[Metre: CM 8686]
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