Trwy ddirgel ffyrdd mae'r uchel Iôr Yn dwyn ei waith i ben; Ei lwybrau ef sydd yn y môr, Marchoga wynt y nen. Ynghudd yn nwfn fwyngloddiau pur Doethineb wir, ddi-wall, Trysori mae fwriadau clir: Cyflawnir hwy'n ddi-ball. Y saint un niwed byth ni chânt; Cymylau dua'r nen Sy'n llawn trugaredd, glawio wnânt Fendithion ar eu pen. Na farna Dduw a'th reswm noeth, Cred ei addewid rad; Tu cefn i len rhagluniaeth ddoeth Mae'n cuddio ŵyneb Tad. Bwriadau dyfnion arfaeth gras Ar fyr aeddfeda'n llawn; Gall fod y blodau'n chwerw eu blas, Ond melys fydd y grawn. Ond gŵyro mae dychymyg dyn Heb gymorth dwyfol ffydd; Gadawn i Dduw Ei 'sbonio'i Hun - Efe dry'r nos yn ddydd! yn nwfn :: mewn dwfn Ei 'sbonio'i Hun :: esbonio'i Hun
- - - - - Trwy ddirgel ffyrdd mae'r Arglwydd Iôr Yn dwyn ei waith i ben; Ei ystafelloedd sy'n y môr, Mae'n marchog gwynt y nen. Dyfnderoedd anchwiliadwy holl Yw cûdd fwriadau Duw, Cyflawna'i arfaeth yn ddigoll - Yr Hollalluog yw. Y saint, un niwed byth ni chânt; Cymylau dua'r nen Sy'n llawn trugaredd, gwlawio wnânt Fendithion ar eu pen. Na farna Dduw â'th reswm noeth, Cred yn ei cariad rhad; Tu cefn i lèn rhagluniaeth ddoeth Mae'n cuddio ŵyneb Tad. Goruchel amcan arfaeth gras Ar fyr addfeda'n llawn, Er fod i'r blodau chwerw flas, Ffrwyth melus fydd y grawn. 1,2,(3,4,5,(6)).
Trwy ddirgel ffyrdd mae'r Arglwydd Iôr
Yn dwyn ei waith i ben;
Ei lwybrau ef sydd yn y môr,
Marchoga wynt y nen.
Dyfnderoedd anchwiliadwy holl
Yw pur fwriadau Duw,
Cyflawna'n ei Rhagluniaeth ddoeth
Ei fwriadau gwiw.
Gredadyn gwan, nac ofna mwy,
Mae du gymylau'r nen
Yn llawn bendithion, glawio wnant
Yn raslawn ar dy pen.
Na farna Dduw wrth reswm noeth,
Gobeithia am ei hedd;
Ni phery'i lid ond enyd fach,
Cei eto wel'd ei wedd.
Datguddir ei fwriadau cudd
Yn raddol nes yn llawn;
Er fod i'r blagur
chwerw flas,
Y ffrwyth fydd felus iawn.
Ni ddirnad synwyr cnawdol ddyn
Ddirgelion troion Duw;
Efe ei hun eglura'n llawn
Ei holl fwriadau gwiw.
Cylawna'n ei :: Cyflawna ei fwriadau gwiw :: holl ewyllys wiw
Tonau [MC 8686]:
gwelir: |
Through mysterious ways the high Lord Is bringing his work about; His paths are in the sea, He rides the wind of the sky. Concealed in pure, deep mines Of true, sincere wisdom, He treasures clear intentions: They are to be supplied unfailingly. The saints will get no harm; The blackest clouds of heaven Are full of mercy, they will rain Blessings on their head. Do not judge God with sparse reason, Believe his free promise; Behind the curtain of wise providence Is hiding a Father's face. Deep intentions of the purposes of grace Shall shortly mature fully; The flowers can be of a bitter taste, But sweet will be the fruit. But perverse is man's imagination Without the help of divine faith; Let God explain it Himself - He will turn night into day! :: ::
- - - - - Through secret ways the Sovereign Lord is Bringing his work to fulfilment; His rooms are the sea, He rides the wind of the sky. All the unsearchable depths Are the hidden intentions of God, He will fulfil his purpose unfailingly - The Almighty is he. The saints, not one hurt will ever receive; The blackest clouds of the sky Are full of mercy, they will rain Blessings on their head. Do not judge God with plain reason, Believe in his free love; Behind the curtain of wise providence Hides the Father's face. The supreme aim of the intention of grace Shall shortly mature fully; The flowers can be of a bitter taste, But sweet will be the fruit.
Through secret ways the Sovereign Lord
Brings his work to fulfilment;
His paths are in the sea,
He rides the wind of the sky.
All unsearchable depths
Are the pure judgments of God,
He will fulfil in his wise Providence
His worthy intentions.
Weak believer, fear no more,
The black clouds of the sky are
Full of blessings, they will rain
Graciously on thy head.
Do not judge God with naked reason,
Hope for his peace;
His anger will endure only a short moment,
Thou wilt again get to see to his face.
To be uncovered are his hidden intentions
Gradually until fully;
Although there is to the bud
a bitter taste,
The fruit will be very sweet.
The sense of fleshly man cannot discern
The twisting secrets of God;
He himself will fully elucidate
All his worthy purposes.
He will fulfill in his :: He will fulfill his worthy intentions :: whole worthy will tr. 2009,19 Richard B Gillion |
God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform; He plants His footsteps in the sea And rides upon the storm. Deep in unfathomable mines Of never failing skill He treasures up His bright designs And works His sovereign will. Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take; The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy and shall break In blessings on your head. Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust Him for His grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face. His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hour; The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower. Blind unbelief is sure to err And scan His work in vain; God is His own interpreter, And He will make it plain.
- - - - - God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform; He plants His footsteps in the sea And rides upon the storm. Deep in unfathomable mines Of never failing skill He treasures up His bright designs And works His sovereign will. Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take; The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy and shall break In blessings on your head. Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust Him for His grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face. His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hour; The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower.
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have
a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.
Tunes [CM 8686]: |