Pechadur aflan yw fy enw,
  O ba rai y pena'n fyw;
Rhyfeddaf byth fe drefnwyd pabell,
  I'm gael yn dawel gwrdd â Duw:
Yno y mae yn llon'd ei gyfraith,
  I'r troseddwr i gael gwledd;
Duw a dyn yn gwaeddi Digon,
  Yn yr Iesu'r aberth hedd.

Anturiaf ato yn hyderus,
  Teyrnwïalen aur sydd yn ei law,
Estyniad hon sydd at bechadur,
  Ni wrthodir neb a ddaw:
Af y'mlaen dan waeddi, Pechais,
  Af a chwympaf wrth ei draed,
Am faddeuant, am fy ngolchi,
  Am fy nghànu yn y gwaed.

Nid eill moroedd mawrion llydain,
  Guddio pechod o unrhyw;
Ac ni allodd dylif cadarn,
  Ei foddi'n wir mae'n awr yn fyw:
Ond gwaed yr Oen fu ar Galfaria,
  Haeddiant Iesu a'i farwol glwy',
Ydyw 'r môr lle caiff ei guddio,
  Byth na welir mo'no mwy.

Ffrydiau tawel byw rhedegog,
  O tan riniog
    tŷ fy Nuw,
Sydd yn llanw ac yn llifo,
  O fendithion o bob rhyw:
Dyfroedd gloyw fel y grisial,
  I olchi'r euog, nerthu'r gwan;
Ac a gàna'r
    Ethiop dua',
  Fel yr eira yn y man.

Byw heb wres na haul yn taro,
  Byw heb ofni marw mwy;
Pob rhyw alar wedi darfod,
  Dim ond canu am farwol glwy';
Nofio yn afon bur y bywyd,
  Bythol heddwch sanctaidd Dri;
Tan d'wniadau digymylau
  Gwerthfawr angeu Calfari.

Pigion o Hymnau 1808
1-3,5:Ann Griffiths 1776-1805
4 : Nathaniel Williams 1742-1826

             - - - - -

Wele fi, bechadur aflan,
  O ba rai y pena'n fyw;
Rhyfedd byth! fe drefnwyd Pabell
 Im' gael tawel gwrdd â Duw;
Yno mae yn llon'd ei gyfraith,
  I'r troseddwr i gael gwledd;
Duw a dyn yn gwaeddi "Digon,"
  Yn yr Iesu'r Aberth hedd.

Mi âf ato yn hyderus -
  Aur deyernwialen sy'n ei law;
A'i hestyniad at bechadur,
  Ni wrthodir neb a ddaw:
Af yn mlaen dan waeddi "Pechais,"
  Af, a chwympaf wrth ei draed,
Am faddeuant a thrugaredd,
  Trwy ei werthfawrocaf waed.

Arglwydd dyro galon imi
  Fo'n galaru am bob bai;
Nid oes drefn na gobaith f'achub,
  Heb im' wir edifarhau;
'Rhai sy'n profi duwiol dristwch,
  Welir fry yn llon i gyd;
Pawb a'u dagrau wedi'u sychu,
  Pawb yn moli Prynwr byd.

gwelir:
  Dyma babell y cyfarfod
  Nid eill moroedd mawrion llydain
  O rhwyga tew gymylau duon
  O ddedwydd awr tragwyddol orffwys
  O na roddid calon imi
  Os rhaid wynebu'r afon donnog

An unclean sinner is my name,
  The chief of those alive;
I will wonder ever a tent was pitched,
  For me to get quietly to meet with God:
It is there in the fullness of his law,
  For the transgressor to get a feast;
God and man shouting 'Enough!',
  In Jesus the peace-offering.

I will venture to him boldly,
  A gold sceptre is in his hand,
The extension of which is to the sinner,
  None who comes is to be rejected:
I will go forward shouting, 'I sinned,'
  I will go and fall at his feet,
For forgiveness, to be washed,
  To be bleached in the blood.

Not able are the great broad seas,
  To hide the sin of anyone;
And not able was a strong torrent,
  To drown it truly, it is now alive:
But the blood of the Lamb was on Calvary,
  The merit of Jesus and his mortal wound,
Is the sea where it can be hidden,
  Forever it is not to be seen any more.

Quiet, living streams running,
  From under the threshold
    of the house of my God,
Which are flooding and streaming
  From blessings of every kind:
Shining waters like the crystal,
  To wash the guilty, strengthen the weak.
And which will bleach
    the blackest Ethiopian
  Like the snow soon.

To live with neither heat nor sun beating,
  To live without fear of dying any more,
Every kind of grief having faded,
  Nothing but love for a fatal wound;
To swim in the pure river of life,
  Endless peace of the holy Three,
Under the cloudless radiances
  Of the precious death of Calvary.

                  - - - - -

Behold me, an unclean sinner,
  Of the worst kind alive;
Wonderful forever! a Tent was arranged
  For me to get quietly to meet with God;
There there is fulfilled his law,
  For the transgressor to get a feast;
God and man shouting "Sufficient,"
  In Jesus the Sacrifice of peace.

I will go to him boldly -
  A gold sceptre is in his hand;
Being extended towards a sinner,
  No-one who comes is rejected:
I will go forward shouting "I sinned,"
  I will go, and fall at his feet,
For forgiveness of mercy,
  Through his most precious blood.

Lord give a heart to me
  Being mourning for every fault;
There is no plan or hope that saves me,
  Unless I truly repent;
Those who experience godly sorrow,
  Are all to be seen cheerful above;
All with their tears having been dried,
  All praising the world's Redeemer.