Y groes (Yw etifeddiaeth fawr fy oes)

Y groes,
Yw etifeddiaeth fawr fy oes,
A'm grym i lynu
    dan bob loes;
  'Rwy'n gwel'd nad oes
      o dan yr haul,
Neb gaf mewn cyfyngderau dwys,
  I ddal fy mhwys, ond Adda'r Ail.

Y llen,
Oedd rhyngwyf gynt
    a'r nefoedd wen,
A rwygodd Iesu hyd y nen;
  I'r wlad uwchben fe'm harwain Ef,
I'm llon orphwysfa dringo gaf,
  I fynwes Naf o fewn y nef.

Ni ddaw
Na phoen na gofid,
    och, na braw,
I neb o'r saint yr ochr draw;
  Dont yn ei law
      i'r hyfryd wlad,
I seinio cân dragwyddol mwy,
  Am farwol glwy', ac am y gwaed.

- - - - -

Y groes
Yw etifeddiaeth fawr fy oes,
A'm grym i lynu
    dan bob loes;
  'Rwy'n gwel'd nad
      oes dan yr haul,
Neb gaf mewn cyfyngderau dwys,
  I ddal fy mhwys, ond Adda'r Ail.

Y byd,
A'i wg a'i wên,
    sydd ddrain o hyd,
O'i fewn nid oes im' noddfa glyd,
  Ond angeu drud
      bryn Calfari;
Mae yno gysgod diddos iawn,
  Maddeuant llawn a hedd yn lli'.

gwelir:
  Braint braint (Yw cael cymdeithas gyda'r saint)
  Draw'r wlad (O'r lle'r wy'n dysgwyl llwr ryddhâd)
  Y llen (Sydd rhyngddwy'n awr â'r nefoedd wen)

The cross,
Is the great heritage of my lifespan,
And my force to stick
    under every affliction;
  I am seeing that there is
      no-one under the sun,
That I have in dire straits,
  To hold my weight, but the Second Adam.

The curtain,
Which was formerly between me
    and the bright heavens,
Jesus tore as far as the sky;
  To the land overhead He will lead me,
To my cheerful resting-place I will climb,
  To the bosom of my Chief within heaven.

Neither
Pain nor grief, groan,
    nor terror shall come,
To anyone of the saints on yonder side;
  They shall come in his hand
      to the delightful land,
To sound an eternal song for evermore,
  For a mortal wound, and for the blood.

- - - - -

The cross
Is the great heritage of my lifespan,
And my force to stick
    under every affliction;
  I am seeing that there is
      no-one under the sun,
That I have in dire straits,
  To hold my weight, but the Second Adam.

The world,
With its frown and its smile,
    is always thorns,
There is within it no secure refuge for me,
  But the costly death
      of the hill of Calvary;
There is there a very sheltered shadow,
  Of full forgiveness as a flood.