Fy enaid 'hed tu a'th etifeddiaeth

Fy enaid, 'hed tu a'th etifeddiaeth,
  Fy ngorddiwes tywyllwch mae;
Nid oes rhifo ar flynyddau
  'Nhragwyddoldeb sy'n neshau;
Môr diderfyn heb ddim gwaelod,
  Gogledd, dwyrain yw, a de',
Na rhif ar oefoedd at ei ddechrau,
  Nac eilwaith at ei ddiwedd e'.

Tu ag yno 'r wyn ymdeithio,
  Yno mae fy Mrenhin mawr,
Can' goleuach
    nag yw'r danllwyth,
  Yn disgleirio uwch y llawr.
O pwy bleser! pwy ddifyrrwch
  A nigrisa i yn y byd,
Pan Emmanull groeshoeliwyd, 
  Oll yn gyfan aeth a mryd?

Clywai lais gan bob rhyw raddau
  O'r creaduriaid mân i gyd
Mod i wedi aros gormod,
  Heppian llawer yn y byd.
Gwisg dy aden, medd pob tafod
  Glywai tan yr awyr las;
Gormod heppian, mae'n ddiweddar
  Cyn it' ddechrau taro 'maes.

Ffarwel bellach bob creadur,
  Chwi gewch weled hyn ryw bryd;
Meddai drysor gwerthfawroccach
  Fil o weithiau nag yw'r byd. 
Tu hwnt i'r bedd 'does mesur arno;
  Rhan o fewn fy nghalon mae:
Ffynnon fawr ydyw ei wreiddyn,
  Fyth ni welir arni drai.

A welodd haul erioed wrth redeg
  Ei thro diderfyn yn y ne',
Neu yn y sêr, neu ar y ddaear 
  Wrthddrych tebyg iddo fe?
A oes trysor, ond ei 'mofyn,
  Yn nyfnderoedd daear lâs
I'r filfed ran, pan yn y clorian
  Bwysa Iesu Grist a'i ras?

F'enaid, taw; 'does dim trysorau,
  Na theganau ar y llawr,
O India'r dwyrain i'r gorllewin,
  China ac Arabia fawr, 
A fodlona glust neu lygad,
  Neu arogliad enaid trist,
Neu ynte dâl i gloddio am danynt,
  Ond ym mherchen Iesu Grist.

Nerth os caf, mi frysiaf mwyach
  'Fynu tu a 'ngwlad fy hun,
Lle mae Nuw yn gwisgo'n gyson
  Mewn gogoniant nattur dyn.
Na enwir i mi'n artre' beilach
  Fangre arall ond y ne';
Neb yn dad, na neb yn briod,
  Neb yn Arglwydd ond efe.

gwelir:
  Clywaf lais gan bob rhyw raddau
  Henffych Iesu'r Duw tragwyddol
  Mae yr oriau yn fy ngalw
  Wyneb siriol fy anwylyd

My soul, fly towards thy inheritance,
  Darkness is overtaking thee;
There is no counting of the years
  Of my eternity which is approaching;
A boundless sea with no bottom,
  North, east it is, an south,
Nor number on the ages to its beginning,
  Nor again to its end.

Towards there I am travelling,
  There is my great King,
A hundred times brighter
    than is the blazing fire,
  Shining above the earth below.
O what pleasure! what entertainment
  I shall regret in the world,
When crucified Emmanuel
  Altogether takes my affection?

I hear a voice from every kind of degree
  Of all the small creatures
That I have waited too much,
  Vacillating much in the world.
Wear thy wings, says every tongue
  I hear under the blue sky;
Too much vacillating, it is getting late
  Before thou begin to strike out.

Farewell henceforth ever creature,
  Ye shall get to see this some time;
I shall possess a treasure more valuable
  A thousand times than is the world.
Beyond the grave there is no measure to it;
  A portion within my heart it is:
A great fount is its root,
  With never any ebbing upon it.

Did the sun every see while running
  Its endless turn in the sky,
Or in the stars, or on the earth
  An object like unto it?
Is there treasure, but for the asking,
  In the depths of the blue-green earth
To the thousandth part, when in the scales
  Balancing Jesus Christ and his grace?

My soul, be silent: there are no treasures,
  Nor trinkets on the earth below,
From India of the east to the west,
  China and great Arabia,
That satisfy ear or eye,
  Or smell of a sad soul,
Nor one who keeps mining for them,
  But in the possession of Jesus Christ.

If I get strength, I shall hurry henceforth
  Up towards my own land,
Where God is clothed constantly
  In the glory of the nature of man.
No other place shall henceforth
  Be named home for me but heaven;
None as father, nor anyone as spouse,
  None as Lord but he.

Gloomy darkness now approaches,
  As a horrid deluge, o'er
The creation which shall perish
  In oblivion evermore.
The elements shall to their former
  Rude and massy chaos turn,
And the starry hosts of heaven
  In the conflagration burn.

Other worlds I must inhabit,
  There where time imperial reigns,
And in streams
    of endless pleasures
  Overflow the eternal plains;
Ocean without bounds or limits,
  A beginning or an end,
Millions of revolving ages
  Can't its vastness comprehend.

All the creatures in connection
  Loudly summon, "Come away,
Thou thy precious time hast loiter'd,
  Careless on the narrow way;"
Every tongue now bis me hasten
  On the wing whilst I have breath,
Lest the shades of night eternal
  Draw the curtain o'er in death.

In those mansions ends my journey,
  Where my God sits on the throne,
And my dearest Mediator
  For his brethren does atone.
O! what pleasures! O! what comforts
  Shall detain my ling'ring flight,
From a world of woe and trouble
  To the realms of purest light.

Have the glorious luminaries,
  From their rising to their set,
In the vast extensive heavens
  With such object ever met?
Are their treasures in the mountains,
  Or the bottom of the sea,
In the thousandth part as precious
  As my dear Redeemer be?