Cudd fy meiau rhag y werin

1,2,3,4,5;  1,3,4,(5);  1,3,6.
(Gweddi am lwyr Lanhad)
Cudd fy meiau rhag y werin,
  Cudd hwy rhag cyfiawnder ne';
Cofia'r gwaed un waith a gollwyd
  Ar y croesbren yn fy lle;
    Yn y dyfnder
  Bodda'r cyfan sy yno' i'n fai.

N'ad fi wneuthur llys na llety
  Pleser imi ddydd a nos,
Ond difyrru'm henaid yno
  Ar gyfiawnder pur y groes;
    Llawn orfoledd
  Bob munudyn yw'th fwynhau.

Rho gydwybod wedi ei channu'n
  Beraidd yn y dwyfol waed,
Cnawd a natur wedi darfod,
  Clwyfau wedi cael iachâd;
    Minnau'n aros
  Yn fy ninas fore a nawn.

Rho fy nwydau fel cantorion,
  Oll i chwarae'u bysedd cun
Ar y delyn sydd yn seinio
  Enw Iesu mawr ei hun;
    Neb ond Iesu
Fo'n ddifyrrwch ddydd a nos.

Gwna ddistawrwydd ar ganiadau
  Cras, afrywiog, hen y byd;
Diffodd dan cynddeiriog natur
  Sydd yn difa gras o hyd,
    Fel y gallwyf
  Glywed pur ganiadau'r nef.

O dystewch derfysglyd donau
  Tra f'wy'n gwrando llais y nef;
Swn mwy hoff a sain mwy hyfryd
  Glywir yn ei eiriau Ef:
    F'enaid gwrando,
  Lais tangnefedd pur a hedd.
Bodda'r :: Bôdd y
channu'n // Beraidd :: chànu // 'N Beraidd

William Williams 1717-91

Tonau [8787447]:
Ardudwy (John Roberts 1822-77)
Catherine / Catharine (David Roberts 1820-72)
Gnoll Avenue (David Jenkins 1848-1915)
Hebron (Daniel Protheroe 1866-1934)
Hyder (Richard Ellis 1775-1855)
Llanilar (<1869)
Ongar (<1869)
St Peter (alaw eglwysig)
Tyddyn Llwyn (Evan Morgan 1846-1920)

gwelir:
  Ni thâl im' gyfadde' meiau
  O dystewch derfysglyd donau
  Rho gydwybod [wedi chànu'n / wedi ei chànu]

(Prayer for entire Holiness)
Hide my faults from the people,
  Hide them from the justice of heaven;
Remember the blood which once was spilt
  On the wooden cross in my place;
    In the depth
  Drown the whole that is there to my blame.

Do not let me make court nor lodging
  Of pleasure for me day or night,
But to entertain my soul there
  On the pure righteousness of the cross;
    Full jubilation
  Every minute is to enjoy thee.

Give a conscience bleached
  Sweetly in the divine blood,
Flesh and nature dissolved,
  Wounds healed;
    Myself staying
  In my city morning and afternoon.

Give my passions like songsters,
  All to play their fine fingers
On the harp which sounds
  The name of great Jesus himself;
    None but Jesus
Be enjoyment day and night.

Silence the old, harsh
  Uncongenial songs of the world
Extinguish the fire of enraged nature
  which devours grace still,
    That I may be able
  To hear the pure songs of heaven.

Oh be still, tumultuous waves
  While I listen to the voice of heaven;
A sound more liked and a sound more delightful
  Is to be heard in His words:
    My soul, listen to
  The voice of pure tranquility and peace.
::
::

tr. 2008,20 Richard B Gillion


The middle column is a literal translation of the Welsh. A Welsh translation is identified by the abbreviation 'cyf.' (emulation by 'efel.'), an English translation by 'tr.'

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