'Rwy'n gweled bob dydd

(Gwerth Ffydd)
  'Rwy'n gweled bob dydd
  Mai gwerthfawr yw ffydd -
Pan elwy' i borth angeu
  Fy angor a fydd!
  Mwy gwerthfawr im' yw
  Na chyfoeth Periw;
Ei gwrthddrych a'm cynal
  Ddydd dial ein Duw!

  Y cysur i gyd
  Sy'n llanw fy mryd,
Fod genyf drysorau
  Uwch gwybod y byd;
  Ac er bod hwy 'nghudd,
  Nas gwel hwynt ond ffydd,
Ceir eglur ddadguddiad
  O honynt ryw ddydd.

         - - - - -
    1 - 14;  1,2,3,9,10.

Rwy'n gweled bob dydd,
    mae gwerthfawr yw ffydd,
Pan elwy i borth angeu,
    fy angor a fydd.

Mwy gwerthfawr im' yw,
    na chyfoeth Peru,
Mor ddyogel i'm cynnal,
    ddydd dial ein Duw.

Ffarwel y fo'r byd,
    a'i bleser yn nghyd,
Ar drysor y nefoedd,
    fe redodd fy mryd.

Trwy'r byd y bo sôn,
    am bwrcas ei boen,
A chaned pob teulu,
    mai teilwng yw'r Oen.

Rhyfeddod y byd,
    yw angau mor ddrud,
A gwreiddyn caniadau'r
    ffyddloniaid i gyd.

Er im' gael iachâd,
    yn rhodd ac yn rhâd,
Fe gostiodd i'r Iesu
    roi drosof ei waed.

Mae 'meiau o'r fath liw,
    mor ffiaidd eu rhyw,
'Does dim all eu golchi,
    ond haeddiant fy Nuw.

Fe'm golchodd yn rhad,
    do, 'n wir yn ei waed,
Gan selio fy mhardwn,
    rhoes imi ryddhâd.

O melys yw'r wledd,
    ce's weled ei wedd,
Fy Mrenin a'm Prophwyd,
    mwyn hyfryd mewn hedd.

Fy Mhriod a'm Pen,
    a rwygodd y llen,
Ffordd newydd a bywiol,
    sy i fyn'd uwch y nen.

O haeddiant y gwaed,
    anfeidrol barhâd!
'Does arall all osod
    fy meiau dan draed.

Mi wela'n ei glwy',
    gyfiawnder sydd fwy
Na meithder y moroedd,
    er lletted y'nt hwy.

Fy enaid i sydd,
    yn awr nos a dydd,
Am ganmol fy Iesu,
    a'm rhoddodd i'n rhydd.

Af bellach yn hŷ,
    tua'r Ganaan sydd fry,
Mi wela'r addewid
    yn gadarn o'm tu.
O melys yw'r :: Mor felys y
a'm Prophwyd :: a 'Mhrophwyd
                - - - - -

  'Rwy'n gweled bob dydd,
  Mai gwerthfawr yw ffydd,
Pan elwy' i borth angau
    fy angor i fydd:
  Mwy gwerthfawr im' yw,
  Na chyfoeth Peru,
A'i gwrth'rych a'm cynnal
    dydd dial ein Duw.

  Ffafwel a fo i'r byd,
  A'i bleser ynghyd,
Ar drysor y nefoedd fe redodd fy mryd:
  Trwy'r byd y bo sôn,
  Am bwrcas ei boen,
A chaned pob teulu mai
    teilwng yw'r Oen.

  Rhyfeddod y byd,
  Yw angau mor ddrud,
A gwreiddyn caniadau'r ffyddloniaid i gyd:
  Er im gael iachâd,
  Yn rhodd ac yn rhad
Fe gostiodd i'r Iesu roi drosof ei waed.

  O haeddiant y gwaed,
  Anfeidrol barhad!
'Does arall all osod fy meiau dan draed:
  Mi wela'n ei glwy,
  Gyfiawnder sydd fwy
Na meithder y moroedd,
    er lletted y'nt hwy.

  Fy enaid i sydd,
  Yn awr nos a dydd,
Am ganmol fy Iesu, a'm rhoddodd i'n rhydd:
  Af bellach yn hy,
  Tu a'r Ganaan sydd fry,
Mi wela'r addewid yn gadarn o'm tu.
William Williams 1717-91 1717-91

priodolwyd hefyd i   |   attributed also to
John Henry Hughes (I ab Rhisiard) 1814-93

Tonau [5565D / 5.5.11.D]:
Cysur (alaw Gymreig)
Horsington (<1829)

gwelir:
  Ffarwel y fo'r byd
  Trwy'r byd y bo sôn
  Y cysur i gyd
  Yr Iesu'n ddi-lai

(The Value of Faith)
  I am seeing every day
  That valuable is faith -
When I go to the gate of death
  My anchor it shall be!
  More valuable to me it is
  Than the wealth of Peru;
Its object shall sustain me
  On the day of vengeance of our God!

  All the comfort
  That is flooding my mind,
That I have treasures
  Beyond the world's knowledge;
  And although they are hidden,
  Only faith sees them,
There shall be a clear revelation
  Of them some day.

               - - - - -


I am seeing every day,
    that precious is faith,
When I go to the gates of death,
    My anchor it shall be.

More precious to me it is,
    than the wealth of Peru,
More safe to support me,
    on the day of the wrath of our God.

Farewell to the world,
    and its pleasures altogether,
On the treasures of heaven,
    my mind runs.

Throughout the world let there be mention,
    of the purpose of his pain,
And let every family sing,
    that worthy is the Lamb.

The wonder of the world,
    is a death so costly,
And the root of the songs of
    all the faithful.

For me to get salvation,
    as a gift and freely,
It cost Jesus
    to shed for me his blood.

My faults of such a colour, are
    of so detestable a kind,
There is nothing that can wash them,
    but the merit of my God.

He washed freely,
    he did, truly in his blood,
Thus basing my pardon,
    he gave to me freedom.

O sweet is the feast,
    I got to see jos countenance,
My King and my dear, delightful
    Prophet in peace.

'Twas my Spouse and my Head,
    who tore the curtain,
A new and living way,
    there is to go above the sky.

O the merit of the blood,
    immeasurably enduring!
There is nothing else that can put
    my sins under foot.

I shall see his wound,
    as righteousness that is greater
Than the vastness of the seas,
    despite how wide they are.

My soul is,
   now night and day,
Wanting to extol my Jesus,
   who set me free.

Henceforth I will go forward boldly,
    toward the Canaan that is above,
I see the promise
    firmly on my side.
O sweet is the :: How sweet the
::
               - - - - -

  I am seeing every day
  That valuable is faith -
When I go to the gate of death
    my anchor it shall be!
  More valuable to me it is
  Than the wealth of Peru;
Its object shall sustain me
    on the day of vengeance of our God!

  Farewell to the world,
  And its pleasures altogether,
After the treasure of heaven my mind ran:
  Throughout the world be there mention,
  Of the purpose of his pain,
And let every family sing
    that worthy is the Lamb.

  The wonder of the world,
  Is death so costly,
And the root of all the faithful's songs:
  For me to get healing,
  As a gift and freely
It cost Jesus to give for me his blood.

  From the merit of the blood,
  Immeasurable endurance!
No other can put my faults under foot:
  I see in his wound,
  Righteousness that is greater
Than the vastness of the seas,
    despite how wide they are.

  My soul is,
  Now night and day,
Wanting to extol my Jesus, who set me free:
  I shall go henceforth boldly,
  Towards the Canaan that is above,
I see the promise firmly on my side.
tr. 2020,23 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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