Rhy wan fy meddwl O fy Nuw

Lord my weak thought in vain would climb

("Gwneler Dy Ewyllys.")
Rhy wan fy meddwl, O fy Nuw,
  I ddringo llwybrau serth y wawr;
Ei wib aruchel, ofer yw
  I chwilio cyrrau'r
      cread mawr.

Ond gwannach fyth fy meddwl fydd
   I ddeall Dy fwriadau'n iawn, -
Dy gyfrin gynghor boreu, sydd
  Yn rasol ffrwyth Dy gariad llawn.

Os byth gofyna rheswm gwan
  Paham'r ordeiniaist groes a briw -
Wyf uwch dyfnderoedd dirfawr pan
  Yn ceisio chwilio arfaeth Duw.

Os gofid gan amheuaeth gaf,
  A'r oll yn dywell nos i mi;
Dyogel orphwys yma wnaf -
  Mai da yw Dy ewyllys Di.

Fy nghysur mwyach, fydd, fy Nuw,
  Mai Ti sy'n llywodraethu'r byd;
Dy benarglwyddiaeth uniawn yw,
  Ymddiried ynot wnaf o hyd.
Thomas Jones 1756-1820

Tôn [MH 8888]: Brynteg (J A Lloyd 1815-74)

("Thy Will Be Done.")
Too weak my thought, O my God,
  To climb the steep paths of the dawn;
Its utmost sprint, vain it is
  To search the corners of the
      great creation.

But too weak ever my thought shall be
  To understand thy purposes fully, -
Thy secret morning counsel, which is
  Full of the gracious fruit of thy love.

If ever I ask weak reason
  Why ordainedst thou a cross and pain -
I am above the enormous depths when
  Trying to search the intention of God.

If grief from doubt I get,
  And the whole as dark night to me;
Safe rest here I shall make -
  That thy will is good.

My comfort henceforth, shall be, my God,
  That thou art governing the world;
Thy overlordship is upright,
  Trust in thee I shall always.
tr. 2021 Richard B Gillion
 
Lord, my weak thought in vain would climb
  To search the starry vault profound;
In vain would wing her flight sublime,
  To find creation's
      utmost bound.

But weaker yet that thought must prove
  To search Thy great eternal plan,
Thy sovereign counsels, born of love
  Long ages ere the world began.

When my dim reason would demand
  Why that, or this, Thou dost ordain,
By some vast deep I seem to stand,
  Whose secrets I must ask in vain.

When doubts disturb my troubled breast,
  And all is dark as night to me,
Here, as on solid rock, I rest,
  That so it seemeth good to Thee.

Be this my joy, that evermore
  Thou rulest all things at Thy will;
Thy sovereign wisdom I adore,
  And calmly, sweetly, trust Thee still.
Ray Palmer 1808-87

Tune [LM 8888]: Canonbury
    (Robert A Schumann 1810-56)

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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