Ein cadarn dŵr yw Duw a'i rad

Ein cadarn dŵr yw Duw a'i rad,
  Ein tarian a'n hamddiffyn;
Efe a'n gwared rhag pob brad,
  Er maint yw llid y gelyn.
Hen frenin uffern ddu
A ddaeth â'i ffyrnig lu;
Mewn nerth a dichell mawr,
Mae'n ymarfogi'n awr,
  Ni fedd y byd ei gydradd.

Gwan lewyrch ddaw o allu dyn,
  Mewn trallod blin mae'n diffodd:
Ond drosom mae'r addasaf Un,
  A Duw ei hun a'i trefnodd.
Pwy yw? medd calon drist;
Ei enw_yw Iesu Grist,
Tywysog lluoedd nef,
Ac nid oes neb ond Ef
  A lwydda yn yr ymgyrch.

A phe bai'r byd yn ddiafliaid oll,
  Yn gwylied i'n graflyncu,
Ni raid i'n hyder fynd ar goll,
  Ni allant ein gorchfygu.
Tywysig y byd hwn
Sy'n llawn cynddaredd, gwn;
Ond niwed o un rhyw
Ni all; - ei ddedfryd yw
  Mae gair ein Duw a'i trecha.

Y Gair er gwaethaf uffern gref
  Un funud nid yw'n oedi;
Ond llwyddo wna amcanion nef,
  Bys Duw sydd yn mynegi.
Ein bywyd rhown yn rhwydd,
A gwraig a phlant o'n gŵydd;
Yn hir ni chaem hwynt mwy;
O'u cael ni elwant hwy;
  Ond dinas Duw a erys.

gwelir: Ein nerth a'n cadarn Dŵr yw Duw

Our firm tower is God and his favour,
  Our shield and our defence;
He will deliver us from every treachery,
  Despite the immensity of the enemy's ire.
The old king of black hell
Has brought his fierce host;
In strength and great deception,
He is arming himself now,
  The world does not posses his equal.

A weak gleam comes from man's ability,
  In wearying trouble it dies out:
But for us is the most suitable One,
  And God himself has ordained him.
'Who is he?' says the sad heart;
His name is Jesus Christ,
The Prince of the hosts of heaven,
And there is no-one but He
  Who will succeed in the campaign.

And if the world were all devils,
  Watching to devour us,
There is no need to lose our confidence,
  They cannot overcome us.
The prince of this world
Is full of fury, I know;
But harm in any way
He cannot; - his sentence it is
  The word of our God shall overpower him.

The Word despite strong hell
  For one minute does not delay;
But succeed will heaven's intention,
  The finger of God declares it.
Our life let us render freely,
And wife and children from our presence;
We cannot have them much longer;
From their having them they will not profit;
  But the city of God shall remain.

A safe stronghold our God is still,
  A trusty shield and weapon;
He'll help us clear from all the ill
  That hath us now o'ertaken.
The ancient prince of hell
Hath risen with purpose fell;
Strong mail of craft and power
He weareth in this hour;
  On earth is not his fellow.

With force of arms we nothing can,
  Full soon were we down-ridden;
But for us fights the proper Man,
  Whom God Himself hath bidden.
Ask ye, who is this same?
Christ Jesus is His name,
The Lord Sabaoth's Son;
He, and no other one,
  Shall conquer in the battle.

And were this world all devils o'er,
  And watching to devour us,
We lay it not to heart so sore;
  Not they can overpower us.
And let the prince of ill
Look grim as e'er he will,
He harms us not a whit;
For why? — his doom is writ;
  A word shall quickly slay him.

God's Word, for all their craft and force,
  One moment will not linger,
But, spite of hell, shall have its course;
  'Tis written by His finger.
And though they take our life,
Goods, honour, children, wife,
Yet is their profit small;
These things shall vanish all:
  The City of God remaineth!

from the German:
Ein' feste Burg ist unser Gott

1529 Martin Luther 1483-1546

Tune: Ein' Feste Burg (Martin Luther 1483-1546)
    arr. J S Bach (1685-1750)