Ym mynwes glyd yr annwyl Oen
Yn mynwes glud/glyd yr anwyl Oen

1,2a,3,4,5,(6),7,8;  1,2a,3,4,6,7,8;  1,2b,5,7,8.
(Gorfoledd yn nghariad Duw)
Yn mynwes glyd yr anwyl Oen,
  Heb friw na phoen, 'rwy'n llechu;
Ac oddi fewn ei glwyfau cu
  Mae f'enaid i'n cartrefu.

Nid llygad wêl, na chlust a glyw,
  Nac un dyn byw ddychymyg,
Y tawel hedd rydd Duw bob dydd
  I'r rhai sydd ddewisedig.

[Llygad ni wêl, a chlust ni chlyw,
   A dyn byw ni ddychymyg,
 Y tawel hedd ry Duw bob dydd
   I'r rhai sydd ddewisedig.]

Er bod yn hir mewn anial fan,
  Yn 'mofyn am orphwysfa,
O'r diwedd des -
    O! ryfedd fraint!
  I'r man mae'r saint yn gwledda.

Wrth linyn rhad fe ddaeth i'm rhan
  Y lle a'r man hyfryta',
Mewn brasder bro
   'mhlith brodyr lu
 Sy'n canu Aleluwia.

Nid rhyfedd yw bod seintiau gwiw
  Yn moli Duw a'i ganmol;
Afonydd hael o'i nefol hedd
  Sydd im' yn wledd wastadol.

Mi wn, pe cawn dafodau hy'
  Angylion fry sy'n canu,
Mi rown y rhai'n i gyd o'r bron
  I ganmol graslon Iesu.

Mi wn y dwg fi
    i deyrnas ne',
  Ar ben fy mhererindod;
Ac yno byth mewn tawel fan,
  Caf eistedd tan ei gysgod.

Caf fwyta ffrwythau
    prenau plan
  Ar hyd glan afon bywyd,
Tragwyddol Sabbath gyda'r Oen,
  Heb friw, na phoen, na gofid.
William Williams 1717-91

Tonau [MS 8787]:
Cambridge New (John Randall 1717-99)
Capel Cynon (Hugh Jones 1749-1825)
Dominus Regit Me (J B Dykes 1823-76)
Dyfrdwy (John Jeffreys 1718-98)
Morganwg (hen alaw)
Neuadd Las (J T Rees 1857-1949)
Padarn (Ieuan Gwyllt 182-77)

gwelir:
Er bod yn hir mewn anial fan
Gwyn fyd y rhai dilëaist eu bai
O Fugail Israel dwg fi 'mlaen

(Rejoicing in God's love)
In the cosy breast of the dear Lamb,
  Without bruise or pain, I am hiding;
And from within his dear wounds
  My soul is making its home.

No eye shall see, nor ear shall hear,
  Nor any man alive imagine,
The quiet peace God gives every day
  To those who are chosen.

[No eye shall see, nor ear shall hear,
   Nor any man alive imagine,
 The quiet peace God gives every day
   To those who are chosen.]

Although long in a desert place,
  Asking for a resting-place,
At last I shall come -
    oh wonderful privilege!
  To the place the saints are feasting.

By a gracious line there came to my portion
  The place and spot most delightful,
In the fatness of a vale
    amongst a host of brothers
  Who are singing Alleluia.

It is no wonder that worthy saints are
  Praising God and extolling him;
Generous rives of his heavenly peace
  Are a constant feast to me.

I know, if I had the bold tongues
  Of angels above who are singing,
I would give them all entirely
  To the gracious praise of Jesus.

I know he will bring me
    to the kingdom of heaven,
  At the end of my pilgrimage;
And there forever in a quiet place,
  I will get to sit under his shadow.

I will get to eat the fruits
    of established trees
  Along the bank of the river of life,
An eternal Sabbath with the Lamb,
  Without bruise, or pain, or worry.
tr. 2013 Richard B Gillion

The middle column is a literal translation of the Welsh. A Welsh translation is identified by the abbreviation 'cyf.' (emulation by 'efel.'), an English translation by 'tr.'

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