Yr Enwau gwycha o Glod

Yr Enwau gwycha o Glod,
  A glywyd mewn un iaith,
Gan Ddynol-ryw erio'd; 
  Neu, 'mhlith Angylion 'chwaith;
    Maent yn rhy wael 
      I ddodi ma's 
      Fawrhydi a Gras
    Fy Mhrynwr hael.

O Pa 'Madroddion mwyn,
  Pa ostyngeiddrwydd Gwas,
Mae Mrhynwr yn ei ddwyn
  I ddysgu ei nefol Ras!
    'Rwy'n llawenhau 
      Wrth wel'd yn rhodd
      Y Ffyrdd a'r Modd
    Fy ngharu mae.

3 Mewn Gwisg o Gnawd, heb gel,
  Fel Angel saif gerllaw,
A'r Addewidion ddeil,
  A Phardwn yn ei Law:
    Oddi wrth y Tad 
      Ei anfon ca's
      I draethu'i Ras
    I Ddynol-ryw

Gwir Brophwyd mawr fy Nâf,
  Mi'th folaf, canys ti
Ddaeth â'r Newyddion da
  O'n Iachawdwriaeth ni;
    Newyddion gwiw
      O Bardwn rhad
      O Hedd â'r Tad,
    I Ddynol-ryw. 

Cynghorwr i mi bydd,
  Patrwn a Th'wysog mwyn;
Trwy'r holl Anialwch fydd
  I'm ledio 'mlaen a'm dwyn,
    O nad i mi
      Oddi wrthit ffoi,
      Neu i draws Ffyrdd droi
    O'th Lwybrau di.

'Rwy'i'n caru Mugail da,
  Fy ngwilio mae o'r Nef,
Fy nghadw'n ddiogel caf
  Ymhlith ei Ddefaid ef:
    Fe bortha'i Braidd,
      A dwg ei Wyn
      I'w Fynwes fwyn,
    Er gwaetha'r Blaidd. 

Rho'i f'Achos, heb naccau,
  I Law fy Meichiau mad;
Mae'n atteb a chwplau
  Drylliedig Ddeddfau'i Dad.
    Wele fi'n rhydd
      O'm Dyled mawr!
      Eu talu lawr
    Wnaeth fy Meichnydd.

Fy Archoffeiriad mawr,
  Offrymei'i Waed yn ffri;
Un Aberth hebddo 'nawr,
  Ni chais fy Enaid i.
    Ei werthfawr Wa'd
      Roes Iawn un pryd,
      Mae'n dadleu o hyd
    Ger bron y Tad.

Dadleuwr im' yw Crist,
  Ymddengys trosof fry;
A'r Tad ogwydda'i Glust,
  A'i Daran heibio try:
    Nid Uffern gref
      Er allo'i wneud,
      A Phechod ddweud
    Dry'i Galon ef.

Fy Ior a'm Congc'rwr mawr,
  A'm Brerin clodfawr glân,
Dy Ras, Deyrn-wialen wiw,
  A'th Gleddyf yw fy Nghân:
    Trwy rhai'n i'm gwnaed
      I ufuddhau,
      A phlygu'n glau
    O fěaen dy Draed.

'Nawr cyfod f'Enaid gwan,
  A'r Temtiwr sathrai lawr,
Mae'th Gadpen cryf o'th Ran,
  Gwnei Fuddugoliaeth fawr;
    Y gwanna'i Ffydd
      O'r Saint heb Ball,
      Ar holl Lu'r Fall,
    A garia'r Dydd.

Pe doi Llu Angau Hyll
  A Nerthoedd Uffern ddu,
Yn eu dychrynllyd Ddull,
  Llid a Chreulondeb cry'
    Diogel wy*i, 
      Rhydd Crist i'm Ras
      I ddala ma's,
    A'u maeddu hwy'!

The most brilliant names of acclaim
  Heard in any language,
By humankind ever;
  Or, amongst angels either;
    They are too poor
      To set forth
      The majesty and grace
    Of my generous Redeemer.

O what gentle expressions,
  What servant's humbling,
Is my Redeemer bearing
  To teach his heavenly grace!
    I am rejoicing
      On seeing as a gift
      The ways and the means
    Of loving me.

In garments of flesh, without concealment,
  Like an angel he stands nearby,
And the promises he holds,
  And pardon in his hand:
    From the Father
      He was sent
      To expound his grace
    To humankind.

True great Prophet of my Chief,
  I shall praise thee, since 'tis thou
Who didst bring the good news
  Of our salvation;
    Worthy news
      Of a free pardon
      Of peace with the Father,
    To humankind.

A Counsellor to me he shall be,
  A Pattern and dear Prince;
Through the whole desert he shall be
  To lead me onward and take me,
    O do not let me
      From thee flee,
      Or to a cross road turn
    From thy paths.

I love my good Shepherd,
  Search me he does from heaven,
I shall be kept safe
  Amongst his sheep:
    He shall pasture his flock,
      And carry his lambs
      In his gentle bosom,
    Despite the wolf.

I shall place my cause, without refusing,
  Into the hand of my good Surety;
He responds and fulfills
  The broken laws of his Father.
    Behold me free
      From my great debt!
      Pay them down
    Did my Surety.

My great High Priest,
  Offered his blood freely;
No sacrifice apart from that now,
  Shall my soul seek.
    His precious blood
      Gave satisfaction once,
      It is arguing still
    Before the Father.

An advocate for me is Crist,
  He appears on my behalf above;
And the Father bows his ear,
  And his thunder away he turns:
    Not strong hell
      Despite what it can do,
      Or sin say,
    Turn his heart.

My Lord and my great Conqueror,
  And my holy King worthy of acclaim,
Thy grace, worthy sceptre,
  And thy sword are my song:
    Through those to make me
      Obey,
      And bow quickly
    Before thy feet.

Now arise, my weak soul,
  And the tempter trample down,
Thy strong Captain is on thy side,
  Thou shalt made a great victory;
    The saint whose faith
      Is weakest, without fail,
      Over all the devil's host,
    Shall carry the day.

If all the host of ugly death should come
  And all the powers of black hell,,
In their horrifying manner,
  Wrath and strong cruelty,
    Safe I shall be,
      Crist shall give me his grace
      To hold out
    And beat them!

Join all the glorious names,
  Of wisdom, love, and power,
That ever mortals knew,
  That angels ever bore:
    All are too mean
      to speak His worth,
    Too mean to set
      my Savior forth.

But O what gentle terms,
  What condescending ways,
Doth our Redeemer use
  To teach his heav'nly grace!
    Mine eyes with joy
      and wonder see
    What forms of love
      He bears for me.

Arrayed in mortal flesh,
  He like an angel stands,
And holds the promises
  And pardons in His hands;
    Commissioned from
      His Father's throne
    To make His grace
      to mortals known.

Great prophet of my God,
  My tongue would bless Thy name,
By Thee the joyful news
  Of our salvation came,
    The joyful news
      of sin forgiv'n
    Of hell subdued,
      and peace with Heav’n.

Be Thou my counsellor,
  My pattern, and my guide,
And through this desert land
  Still keep me near thy side:
    Nor let my feet
      e'er run astray
    Nor rove nor seek
      the crooked way.

I love my Shepherd’s voice,
  His watchful eyes shall keep
My wand’ring soul among
  The thousands of His sheep:
    He feeds His flock,
      He calls their names,
    His bosom bears
      the tender lambs.

To this dear surety’s hand
  Will I commit my cause;
He answers and fulfills
  His Father’s broken laws:
    Behold my soul
      at freedom set!
    My surety paid
      the dreadful debt.

Jesus, my great high priest,
  Offered His blood, and died;
My guilty conscience seeks
  No sacrifice beside:
    His powerful blood
      did once atone,
    And now it pleads
      before the throne.

My advocate appears
  For my defence on high;
The Father bows His ears,
  And lays His thunder by:
    Not all that hell
      or sin can say
    Shall turn His heart,
      His love away.

My dear almighty Lord,
  My conqueror and my King,
Thy sceptre and Thy sword,
  Thy reigning grace I sing:
    Thine is the power;
      behold I sit
    In willing bonds
      beneath Thy feet.

Now let my soul arise,
  And tread the tempter down;
My captain leads me forth
  To conquest and a crown:
    A feeble saint
      shall win the day,
    Though death and hell
      obstruct the way.

Should all the hosts of death,
  And powers of hell unknown,
Put their most dreadful forms
  Of rage and mischief on,
    I shall be safe,
      for Christ displays
    Superior power,
      and guardian grace.