'Does arnaf eisiau yn y byd
Ond golwg ar dy haeddiant drud,
A chael rhyw braw
o'i nefol rin,
I 'mado'n lân â mi fy hun
'Rwyf yn ei wel'd, ei wel'd o bell,
Na'r cwbl dan yr haul yn well;
Ond O! na allwn ddringo'n awr
I'r man lle mae'n dyferu i lawr.
Er bod dy haeddiant gwerthfawr drud
Yn fwy na'r nef, yn fwy na'r byd,
Yn rhyw anfeidrol
berffaith Iawn,
'Rwy'n methu gorffwys arno'n llawn.
'Rwy'n ymdrybaeddu yn fy ngwaed,
Yn nghanol dyrys anial wlad;
Yn ceisio dringo fyth i'r lan,
Heb etto ddod
i'r hyfryd fan.
O flaen y drugareddfa fawr
Yn trengu wrth dy draed i lawr,
Gwêl y pechadur duaf gaed
Yn griddfan am rinweddau'r gwaed.
O feiau mawr, beth allsech fwy,
Na rhoddi i Frenhin nefoedd glwy';
Lladdasoch ef: fe drodd y rhôd,
Mae dydd eich
dial chwithau'n d'od.
Gwêl ar Galfaria dyma'r Dyn,
A phwy oedd ef ond Duw ei hun:
Pechodau'r holl grediniol fyd
A bwysodd ar ei 'sgwyddau ynghyd.
Na âd fi ynddiried tra b'wyf fyw,
Ond yn dy angau di fy Nuw;
Dy boenau a dy farwol glwy'
Gaiff fod yn ymffrost i mi mwy.
Mae gras yn rhyw anfeidrol stôr,
A doniau ynot fel y mor;
O gâd i'r truenusa'n awr
Drwy'r rhai'n fy llonni ar y llawr.
Haul y cyfiawnder dysglaer cu,
Tywyna trwy bob cwmwl du;
O tan dy esgyll dwyfol mae,
Y Balm o Gilead sy'n iachâu.
rinweddau'r gwaed :: rinweddau'th gwaed
Tonau [MH 8888]:
gwelir: |
I have no need in the world
But to look on thy precious merit,
And to have some terror
of its heavenly virtue,
To depart from me myself completely.
I am seeing it, seeing it from afar,
Better than all that is under the sun;
But oh that I could climb now
To the place where it is dripping down.
Although thy precious, costly merit is
More than the heaven, more than the earth,
In some immeasurable,
perfect Satisfaction,
I am able to rest on it fully.
I am wallowing in my blood,
In the middle of a troublesome desert land;
Trying to climb forever up,
Without yet coming
to the delightful place.
Before the great mercy-seat
Perishing down at thy feet,
See the blackest sinner there was
Groaning for the merits of the blood.
O great faults, what could ye do,
Than give the King of heaven a wound;
Ye slew him: he turned the firmament,
The day of your
awkward retribution is coming.
See on Calvary, there is the Man,
And who was he but God himself:
The sins of all the believing world
Weighed on his shoulders altogether.
Do not let me trust while ever I live
But in thy death, my God;
Thy pains and thy mortal wound
Shall get to be a boast for me evermore.
The is grace in some infinite store,
And gifts in thee like the sea;
O let the most wretched now
Through these cheer me on the earth.
Dear radiant Sun of righteousness,
Shine through every black cloud;
Under thy divine wings is
The Balm of Gilead that heals.
the merits of the blood :: the merits of thy blood tr. 2008,23 Richard B Gillion |
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