Am fod fy Iesu'n fyw,
    Byw hefyd fydd ei saint.
Er gorfod goddef poen a briw,
    Mawr yw eu braint:
  Bydd melys lanio draw
    'N ol bod o donn i donn,
Ac mi ro'f ffarwel maes o law,
    I'r ddaear hon.

  Daeth allan ddw'r a gwaed,
    Yn rhyfedd rad i ni;
Ni chollwn ddim
      o'r trysor gaed,
    Ar Galfari;
  Fe genir myrdd yn wyn,
    Oll fel yr eira mân,
Ceir gwel'd rhai ffiaidd y pryd hyn,
    Yn berffaith lân.

  O angeu pur y groes,
    Ti bellach fydd fy nghân;
'Doedd dw'r i'w gael
      ond ar y groes,
    A'm golcha'i'n lân
  Y ffynnon loyw lawn,
    Sydd barod iawn o hyd,
I olchi'r Ethiop du yn wyn,
    Hyd eithaf byd.

  Ac yna gwyn fy myd
    Tu draw i'r
          byd a'r bedd:
Caf yno fyw
      dan foli o hyd
    Mewn hawddfydd hedd
  Yn nghwmni'r nefol Oen
    Heb sôn am bechod mwy,
Ond can am ei ddirfawr boen
    Byth gyda hwy.

  Anturiaf bellach mwy,
    Er cymaint
          grym fy mai;
Trwy'r haeddiant dwyfol
      sy'n ei glwy',
    Heb lwfrhau;
  O flaen yr orsodd wen,
    Ffieiddiaf ddyn o'r blaen,
Gan gredu gall Tywysog nen,
    Fy ngwneud yn lân.

  O tyred addfwyn Oen,
    Iachawdwr dynolryw,
At wael bechadur sydd dan boen,
    Ac ofnau'n byw;
  O helpa'r llesg a'r gwan,
    I'r làn o'r pydew prudd,
A rho trwy rinwedd dwyfol waed,
    Fy nhraed yn rhydd.

gwelir:
  Mae angeu'r groes yn fwy
  O f'enaid hêd i'r làn
  O tyred addfwyn Oen
  Yn eithaf grym y dwr

  Because my Jesus is alive,
    Live also shall his saints.
Despite having to suffer pain and bruise,
    Great is their privilege:
  It will be sweet to land yonder
    After being from wave to wave,
And I will bid farewell soon,
    To this earth.

  Water and blood came out,
    Wonderfully free for us;
Let us not lose anything
      of the treasure got,
    On Calvary;
  A myriad are to be bleached white,
    All like the fine snow,
Some detestable are to get seen then,
    Perfectly clean.

  O pure death of the cross,
    Thou henceforth shalt be my song;
There is no water to be had
      but on the cross,
    That will wash me clean
  The shining, full fount,
    Is very ready still,
To wash the black Ethiopian white,
    Unto the extremity of the world.

  And there I will be blessed
    On the far side of the
          world and the grave:
I will get to live there
      praising all the time
    In peaceful pleasure
  In the company of the heavenly Lamb
    Without mention of sin any more,
But a song about his immense suffering
    Forever with them.

  I will venture forth evermore,
    Despite how great
          the force of my fault;
Through the divine merit
      which is in his wound,
    Without losing heart;
  Before the white throne,
    The most detestable man ever,
By believing the Prince of heaven can,
    Make my clean.

  O come, meek Lamb,
    The Saviour of humankind,
To a poor sinner who is here under pain,
    And fearing to live;
  O help the feeble and the weak,
    Up from the sad pit,
And set, through the merit of divine blood,
    My feet free.