Wrth dy orsedd 'r wyf fi'n gorwedd,
  Disgwyl am y ddedwydd awr,
Pryd câf glywed llais gorfoledd,
  Pryd câf wel'd fy meiau lawr:
    Ti gai enw 'r &c.
  Fuddugoliaeth it' dy hun.

Doed dy heddwch pryd y delo,
  Mi ddisgwyliaf ddydd a nos;
Annherfynol ydyw haeddiant,
  Haeddiant pur dy angau loes;
    Tyr'd yn fuan &c.
  Mae dy hedd yn fwy na'r byd.

Dattod rwydau sydd heb rifo,
  Wedi eu taenu draw o mlaen;
Llosg bob gefyn sy'n fy rhwymo,
  A dy ddwyfol nefol dân;
   Gwna i garcharor, &c.
  Heddyw gael ei draed yn rhydd.

Heddyw yw'r dydd rwi'n ofni syrthio,
  Diau heddyw yw efe,
Etto sefyll 'r wyf er gwaned,
  Trwy awdurdod mawr y Ne';
    Grym i gredu, &c.
  'R âf dan ofn i ben fy nhaith.

Dysg y galon drist i chwerthin,
  Dysg i'r mudan seinio cân;
Dysg yr ofnus gwan i gludo
  Uffern fawr i lawr o'i flaen:
    Tro wylofain, &c.
  Yn ganiadau Calfari.

Mil o werin chwarddai'n loyw,
  Pe caent wel'd fy mhen i lawr,
Gorfoleddent pe troe'r frwydr,
  Gadarn gyd âg uffern fawr:
    Dal fi i fynu, &c.
  Y'nghanol pwys
        a gwres y dydd.

Bywyd perffaith yw dy gwmni,
  Diliau mêl yw d'heddwch drud;
Gwerthfawrocach yw dy gariad
  Na holl berlau'r India i gyd:
    Gwlad o gyfoeth
  Yw yn unig dy fwynhau.

At thy throne I am lying,
  Waiting for the happy hour,
When I may hear a jubilant voice,
  When I my see sins brought down:
    Thou will get the name of the
  Triumph thou thyself.

Let thy peace come when it will,
  I will be expecting day and night;
Interminable is the merit,
  The pure merit of thy throes of death;
    Come soon,
  Thy peace is more than the world.

Undo the bonds which are without number,
  Having been spread yonder ahead;
Burn every shackle which is binding me,
  With thy divine heavenly fire;
    Make a prisoner,
  Today get his feet free.

Today is the day I am fearing falling
  Without doubt it is today,
Still standing I am although so weak,
  Through the great authority of Heaven;
    Strength to believe,
  I am going under fear to my journey's end.

Teach the sad heart to laugh,
  Teach the mute to sound a song;
Teach the fearful weak to carry
  Great hell down before him:
    Lamenting will turn,
  To the songs of Calvary.

A thousand folk would laugh brightly,
  If they got to see my head brought down:
They would be jubilant if the battle turned,
  Firm with great hell:
    Hold me up,
  In the midst of the weight
        and heat of the day.

Perfect life is thy company,
  Combs of honey are thy precious peace;
More valuable is thy love
  Than all the pearls of India altogether:
    A land of wealth
  It is only to enjoy thee.