'Rwy'n rhoi mhechod 'rwy'n rhoi 'nghamwedd

'Rwy'n rhoi mhechod,
      'rwy'n rhoi 'nghamwedd,
I lawr yn gryno wrth dy orsedd;
  Maddeu i'r brwnt
        a maddeu i'r aflan,
  Sydd o flaen dy fainc yn griddfan:
Rhad drugaredd wy'n ddymuno,
Darfu haeddiant dyn yn gryno;
    Nid oes dim, noddfa im',
  Yn wyneb grym angeu,
  Ond yr Aberth maith rinweddau,
  'Fu ar y groes dros fy mhechodau.

Dacw'r ffynnon bur hawddgara',
A gànodd filoedd fel yr eira;
  Dacw'r nant a dacw'r afon,
  Sydd yn genllif o gysuron;
Dacw'r dwfr, mi gwympaf iddo,
A deued i mi fel y delo;
    Bellach mwy,
          treiddiaf trwy,
  Ni saif yn hwy ofnau;
  Mwy ydyw'r hwn fu'n dyoddef clwyfau,
  Nag aneirif faint fy meiau.

Pan dderchafwyf i'm hardd drigfa,
I wel'd gogoniant y Messïah;
  Pa fath olwg nefol hyfryd,
  A fydd ar D'wysog mawr y bywyd?
A ydyw ol yr hoelion yno,
Yn ei draed, ac yn ei ddwylo?
    Ni holai'n hwy,
          câf weled mwy,
  Dirgelwch 'rwy'n credu,
  Yn y DRINDOD, a rhyfeddu,
  Nag all calon dyn ddych'mygu.

O na roddai f'Arglwydd tirion,
Ronyn trai ar ddwfr yr afon;
  Fel y gallai'r gwan fyn'd trosodd,
  Heb ei foddi yn y dyfroedd:
O! Iorddonen, angeu chwerw,
Dyna f'ofn, arswydo hwnw;
    Onidê, yn awr i'r ne',
  Drwy fyddin gre' angeu,
  Mi ddiangwn o'm cadwynau,
  I ddechreu seinio pêr ganiadau.

Nid yw fy ngwaith, nid yw fy noniau,
Ond rhyw sorod, heb eu heisiau;
  Bêdd i'm puro oddiwrth fy mrynti,
  Sydd yn perthyn oreu i mi:
Pridd i'r pridd, a lludw i'r lludw,
Ymadrodd hyfryd ydyw hwnw!
    I eiddil gwan,
          sy'n dringo i'r làn,
  Heb un man i orphwys,
  Nid oes i mi drigfa gymhwys,
  Ond y beddrod, a Pharadwys.

               - - - - -

Rwy'n rhoi mhechod,
      'rwy'n rhoi nghamweddi
'Nawr yn gryno wrth dy orsedd;
  Maddeu i'r brwnt,
        a maddeu i'r aflan,
  Sydd o flaen y fainc yn gruddfan;
Maith drugaredd wyf yn bledio
Darfu haeddiant dyn yn gryno;
    Nid oes dim, noddfa im'
  Rhag grym yr angeu,
  Ond yr aberth wnaed er's dyddiau
  Ar Galfaria tros 'mechodau.

Dacw'r ffynnon bur hawddgara,
Gànodd filoedd fel yr eira;
  Dacw'r nant, a dacw'r afon,
  Sydd yn genllif o gysuron:
Dacw'r dwr, mi gwympaf iddo,
Doed o honwy'r peth a ddelo;
    Bellach mwy,
          treiddiaf trwy,
  Filoedd o ofnau;
  Mwy yw'r hwn a fu yn dyoddeu,
  Nag aneirif faint fy meiau.

Fel un faeddwyd wyf yn gymhwys,
Etto a'm gobaith am baradwys:
  Mae fy chwant, ac mae fy nwydau,
  Yn fy nwyn tros bob terfynau;
Etto mae yma ryw afaelon,
Am dorfeydd o addewidion,
    Deued gras, foreu glas,
  Hyfryd i'w weled,
  Tored rwydau, a gwareded
  F'enaid euog o gaethiwed.

gwelir: O na roddai f'Arglwydd tirion

I am putting my sin,
      I am putting my transgression,
Down trembling at thy throne;
  Forgive the filthy
        and forgive the unclean,
  Who is before thy bench groaning:
Gracious mercy I am requesting,
The merit ceased of a man trembling;
    There is no refuge for me,
  In the face of the force of death,
  But the Sacrifice of great merits,
  That was on the cross for my sins.

There is the pure most beautiful fount,
That bleached thousands like the snow;
  There is the stream and there the river,
  That is a torrent of comforts;
There is the water, I shall fall into it,
And come to me what may;
    Henceforth forever,
          I shall penetrate through,
  Fears shall stand no longer;
  Greater is he who suffered wounds,
  Than my vast unnumbered faults.

When I ascend to my beautiful dwelling,
To see the glory of the Messiah;
  What a delightful heavenly sight
  Shall it be of the great Prince of life?
Shall the marks of the nails be there,
In his feet, and in his hands?
    I shall ask no longer,
          I shall get to see evermore,
  The mystery I am believing,
  In the TRINITY, and wonder,
  At what the heart of man cannot imagine.

O that my tender Lord would give,
A slight ebbing to the water of the river;
  That the weak may be able to go over,
  Without drowning in the waters:
O Jordan, bitter death,
That is my fear, I am terrified of it;
     Shall I not, now to heaven,
  Through the strong army of death,
  Escape from my chains,
  To begin to sound sweet songs. 

Neither my work nor my gifts, are anything,
But some dross, unneeded;
  A grave to purify me from my filthiness,
  Is my best possession:
Soil to the soil, and ash to the ash,
A delightful saying is this!
    For a feeble weak one,
          who is climbing up,
  With no place to rest,
  I have no fitting dwelling,
  But the tomb, and Paradise.

                 - - - - -

I am putting my sins,
      I am putting my transgressions
Now trembling at thy throne;
  Forgive the filthy,
        and forgive the unclean,
  Who is before thy bench groaning;
Vast mercy I am pleading
The merit ceased of a man trembling;
    There is no refuge for me
  From the force of death,
  But the sacrifice made days ago
  On Calvary for my sins.

There is the pure most beautiful found,
That bleached thousands like the snow;
  There is the stream, and there the river,
  That is a torrent of comforts,
There is the water, I shall fall into it,
Come what may of me;
    Henceforth forever,
          I shall penetrate through,
  Thousands of fears;
  Greater is he who suffered wounds,
  Than my vast unnumbered faults.

As one beaten I am considered,
Yet with my hope for paradise:
  My desire, and my lusts, are
  Bringing me over all boundaries;
Yet here are some grasps,
On hosts of promises,
    Let grace come, in earliest dawn,
  Delightful to see,
  Let snares be broken, and let my guilty
  Soul be delivered from captivity.