Llawenydd f'enaid i'r awr hon

Llawenydd f'enaid i'r awr hon
Caiff dorri maes yn Ganiad llon;
  Mae cariad Duw o'm mewn fel tān,
  A hyfryd gan fy nhafod gān.

Duw fwrodd ar fryn Seion sych
Rai dafnau o'i drugaredd wych,
  A 'mrwymo wnaeth,
      trwy lwon mawr,
  I wlawio iechydwriaeth lawr.

Am hynny pa'm mae yn ein plith
Amheuon ac achwynion chwith?
  Ai Duw yw ef? a fydd i'w ras
  Droi'i seintiau o'i feddyliau ma's?

A ddichon gwraig gariadus gu
Anghofio babab bach ei bru;
  Na chaffo hwn fu'n sugno'i bron
  Ddim lle yn holl feddyliau hon?

Etto, medd Duw,
    pe felly doi
I fammau'n ddi-drugaredd droi;
  Byth ar fy nghalon Seion sai',
  Byth mae fy nghariad i'n parhau.

Ar fy nwylaw mewn argraph lawn,
Rhois enw hon yn ddwfn iawn;
  Cyfodaf ei hadfeiliog fur,
  Adfeiraf ei chysuran pur.

The joy of my soul for this hour
Shall get to break out in a cheerful song;
  The love of God is within like a fire,
  And delightful to my singing tongue.

God cast upon the thirsty hill of Zion
Some drops of his brilliant mercy
  And bind himself he did,
      through a great oath,
  To rain salvation down.

Therefore why are there amongst us
Doubts and complaints either?
  Is he God? and shall his grace
  Turn his saints out from his thoughts?

And can a loving, dear woman
Forget the little baby of her womb;
  Shall he who was sucking her breast get
  No place in all her thoughts?

Yet, says God,
    if it should come
To mothers merciless to turn;
  Forever on my heart Zion shall stand,
  Forever is my love enduring.

On my hands in a full inscription
I have put her name very deeply;
  I shall raise her ruined wall,
  I shall fix her pure comforts.

Now shall my inward joys arise,
  And burst into a song;
Almighty love inspires my heart,
  And pleasure tunes my tongue.

God on his thirsty Zion hill
  Some mercy drops has thrown,
And solemn oaths
    have bound his love
  To shower salvation down.

Why do we then indulge our fears,
  Suspicions, and complaints?
Is he a God, and shall his grace
  Grow weary of his saints?

Can a kind woman e'er forget
  The infant of her womb?
And 'mongst a thousand tender thoughts
  Her suckling have no room?

"Yet," saith the Lord,
    "should nature change,
  And mothers monsters prove,
Zion still dwells upon the heart
  Of everlasting love.

"Deep on the palms of both my hands
  I have engraved her name;
My hands shall raise her ruined walls,
  And build her broken frame?"