Rhyw afon a gaed, O ddwfr a gwaed, O'r orsedd ddysgleirdeg Mae'n rhedeg yn rhâd. I wella fy mriw, A'm beiau bob rhyw, A chànu fy enaid, Er dued ei liw. Mae'n ffynnon ddidrai, I olchi fy mai; Er maint yw fy nghulni 'Dyw'n llenwi dim llai. Ac er 'mod i 'nawr, Yn llesg ar y llawr, Fe'm cènir yn ddiau, O feiau fu fawr. Af bellach yn mlaen, Trwy ddwfr a thrwy dân; Er cymaint fy nyled, Fe'i talwyd yn lân: Moliannu mwy fydd Fy mhleser bob dydd; 'Nol agor y carchar Pwy all fod yn brudd?William Williams 1717-91 [Mesur: MB 5565] [Mesur: MBD 5565D] gwelir: Fy Iesu mwy fydd Y cysur i gyd |
Some river there is, Of water and blood, From the fair, shining throne It is running freely. To heal my bruise, And my faults of every kind, And bleach my soul, Despite how black its colour. It is an unebbing fount, To wash my fault; Despite the extent of my leanness It is filling no less. And although I am now, Feeble on earth below, I am bleached undoubtedly, From faults that were great. I shall go henceforth onward, Through water and through fire; Despite how great my debt, It was paid completely: Praising evermore shall be My pleasure every day; After the opening of the prison Who can be sad?tr. 2020 Richard B Gillion |
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