Fy Iesu fy Ngwaredwr,
  Boed clôd i'w enw byth;
Doed dynion i'w foliannu
  Fel rhif y bore wlith;
O na bai gwellt y ddaear
  Yn delyn aur bob un,
I ganu i'r Hwn a anwyd
  I'r byd i brynu dyn.

        - - - - -

Fy Nuw, fy Nhad, fy Iesu,
  Boed clod i'th enw byth;
Boed dynion i'th glodfori,
  Fel rhif y bore wlith;
O na bai gwellt y ddaear
  Oll yn delynau aur,
I ganu i'r hwn a anwyd
  Ym Methlem gynt o Fair.

O Iesu, pwy all beidio
  Â'th ganmol ddydd a nos?
A phwy all beidio â chofio
 Dy farwol ddwyfol loes?
A phwy all beidio â chanu
  Am iachawdwriaeth rad,
A gafodd deimlo gronyn
  O rinwedd pur dy waed?

O Arglwydd, rho im dafod
  Na thawo ddydd na nos,
Ond canu heb ddiffygio
  Am rinwedd gwaed y Groes:
Na ddelo gair o'm genau,
  Yn ddirgel nac ar goedd,
Ond am fod Iesu annwyl
  Yn wastad wrth fy modd.

Fy Nuw, fy addfwyn Iesu,
  Boed clod i'th enw byth;
Doed dynion i dy foli,
  Fel rhif y bore wlith;
O na bae gwellt y ddaear
  Oll yn delynau aur,
I ganu i'r hwn a anwyd
  I'r byd i brynu dyn.

Doed engyl nef yn lluoedd,
  Rifedi gwlith y wawr,
Rhoent eu coronau euraidd
  O flaen y fainc i lawr;
Chwareuent eu telynau,
  Yn ngyda'r saint yn un;
Byth, byth ni chanant ddigon
  Am Dduwdod yn y dyn.

Fy Nhad, fy addfwyn Iesu!
  Boed clod i'th enw byth;
Doed dynion i dy foli,
  Fel rhif y bore wlith;
O na ha'i gwellt y ddaear,
  Yn delyn aur bob un,
I ganu i'r hwn a anwyd
  I'r byd i brynu dyn.

Fe ddaeth i wella'r archoll,
  Trwy gym'ryd clwyf ei hun;
Etifedd nef yn marw
  I wellhau'r marwol ddyn;
Yn sugno'n llwyr y gwenwyn,
  A rodd y sarph i ni,
Ac wrth y gwenwyn hwnnw
  Yn marw ar Galfari.

Bechadur gwel e'n sefyll
  Yn llonydd ar y groes,
Clyw'r griddfan sy'n ei enaid
  Tan ddyfnder angeu loes:
O gwrando ar ei riddfan,
  Mae pob ochenaid ddrud,
Yn floedd y'nghlustiau'r nefoedd,
  Am faddeu
      beiau'r byd.

            - - - - -

Fy Nhad fy addfwyn Iesu!
  Boed clôd i'th enw byth;
Doed dynion i dy foli,
  Fel rhîf y bore wlith;
O na ha'i gwellt y ddaear
  Yn delyn aur bob un,
I ganu i'r hwn a anwyd,
  I'r byd i brynu dyn.

Am angeu'r groes bydd canu
  I drag'wyddoldeb maith,
Ond im gael teimlo ei rinwedd
  'Rw'i bron ar ben fy nhaith:
A chredu ydyw teimlo,
  A theimlo yn union sydd,
Yn troi pob rhyw dywyllwch
  O'm mewn yn oleu ddydd.

Mi welaf yn ei fywyd
  Y ffordd i'r nefoedd fry,
Ac yn ei angau'r taliad
  A roddwyd drosof fi;
Yn ei esgyniad gwelaf
  Drigfannau pûr y nef,
A'r wledd drag'wyddol berffaith
  Ga'i yfed gyd ag ef.

gwelir:
  Rhan II - Gwel ar y croesbren chwerw
  Angylion doent yn gyson
  Bechadur gwel e'n sefyll
  Bechadur gwel yr Iesu
  Mae'r fath feddyliau mawrion
  Mi welaf yn ei fywyd
  Ni fuasai gennyf obaith
  O Iesu pwy all beidio?
  Pwy ddyry im' falm Gilead?
  Yr Iesu adgyfododd

My Jesus, my Deliverer,
  Be there acclaim to his name forever;
May men come to praise him
  Like the number of the morning dew;
O that the grass of the earth were
  A golden harp every one,
To sing to him who was born
  For the world to ransom man.

              - - - - -

My God, my Father, my Jesus,
  Let praise be to thy name forever;
Let there be men extolling thee,
  Like the morning dew in number;
O that the straw of the earth
  Were all golden harps,
To sing to him who was born
  In Bethlehem of old of Mary.

O Jesus, who can forbear
  To extol thee day and night?
And Who can forbear to remember
  Thy mortal divine throes?
And who can forbear to sing
  Of free salvation,
Who got a feeling of a grain
  Of the pure merit of thy blood?

O Lord, give me a tongue
  That will not keep silent day nor night,
But singing without tiring
  Of the virtuous blood of the Cross:
There will not come a word from my mouth,
  Secretly nor publicly,
But about dear Jesus
  Continually happily.

My God, my gentle Jesus,
  Let there be praise to thy name forever;
Let men come to praise thee,
  Like the morning dew in number;
O that the straw of the earth
  Were all golden harps,
To sing to him who was born
  To the world to purchase man.

Let angels come in hosts,
  Numerous as the dew of the dawn,
Let them put their golden crowns
  Down before the bench;
Let them play their harps,
  Together with the saints as one;
Never, ever will they sing enough
  For the Godhead in the man.

My Father, my dear Jesus!
  May there be praise to thy name forever;
May men come to extol thee,
  Like the number of the morning dew;
O that the straw of the earth might be,
  A golden harp every one,
To sing to him who was born
  For the world, to ransom man.

He came to heal the wound,
  Through taking an ailment himself;
The heir of heaven dying
  To heal the mortal man;
Sucking completely the poison,
  Which the serpent gave to us,
And by that poison
  Dying on Calvary.

Sinner, see him standing
  Cheerfully on the cross,
Hear the groaning which is in his soul
  Under the depth of the throes of death:
O listen to his groaning,
  Every costly sigh is
A shout in the ears of heaven,
  For the forgiveness
      of the sins of the world.

                - - - - -

My Father, my dear Jesus!
  May there be acclaim to thy name forever;
May men come to praise thee,
  Like the number of the morning dew;
O that the grass of the earth were
  A golden harp every one,
To sing to him who was born,
  To the world, to purchase man.

About the death of the cross be singing
  For a vast eternity,
I only I get to feel his virtue
  I am almost at my journey's end:
And believing is feeling,
  And feeling exacting which is,
Turning every kind of darkness
  Within me into the light of day.

I see in his life
  The way to heaven above,
And in his death the payment
  That was given for me;
In his ascension I see
  The pure dwellings of heaven,
And the perfect eternal feasts
  Where I may drink with him.

To Thee, my God, my Saviour,
  Praise be for ever new;
Let people come to praise Thee
  In numbers like the dew;
Oh! that in every meadow
  The grass were harps of gold,
To sing to Him for coming
  To ransom hosts untold!

- - - - -
To Thee, my God, my Saviour,
  Praise be for ever new;
Let people come to praise Thee
  In numbers like the dew;
Oh! that in every meadow
  The grass were harps of gold,
To sing to Him for coming
  To ransom hosts untold!

To Thee, my God, my Saviour,
  Praise be for ever new;
Let people come to praise Thee
  In numbers like the dew;
Oh! that in every meadow
  The grass were harps of gold,
To sing to Him for coming
  To ransom hosts untold!

To Thee, my God, my Saviour,
  Praise be for ever new;
Let people come to praise Thee
  In numbers like the dew;
Oh! that in every meadow
  The grass were harps of gold,
To sing to Him for coming
  To ransom hosts untold!



















                - - - - -

To Thee, my God, my Saviour,
  Praise be for ever new;
Let people come to praise Thee
  In numbers like the dew;
Oh! that in every meadow
  The grass were harps of gold,
To sing to Him for coming
  To ransom hosts untold!