Mi edrychaf ar i fyny
Mi edrychaf at i fyny

1,2,(3);  1,4.
Mi edrychaf ar i fynu,
  Deued t'wll'wch, deued nos;
Os daw heddwch im' o unlle,
  Daw o haeddiant
      gwaed y groes,
Dyna'r man y gwnaf fy nhrigfan,
  Yma y gobeithiaf mwy,
Nid oes iechyd byth i'm henaid,
  Ond mewn dwyfol farwol glwy'.

Gobaith f'enaid yw ei haeddiant,
  Gobaith f'enaid yw ei rym;
Tlawd a llesg, a gwan ac ynfyd
  Ydwyf fi, heb feddu dim:
Trwodd draw yr wyf yn edrych,
  Dros y bryniau mawrion pell,
Ac yn disgwyl fy ngorffwysfa
  O gyfiawnder llawer gwell.

Nid oes ffynon wedi ei hagor
  A all olchi'r euog hyn,
Ond y ffynon a agorodd
  Cariad ar Galfaria fryn:
Gwaed all dalu'n llwyr am feiau -
  Gwaed all agor porth y nef:
Ac nid oes foddlona'r nefoedd
  Ond Ei haeddiant dwyfol Ef.

Dacw'r un sydd a thosturi,
  Fe fu'n hongian ar y groes;
Fe fu'n gruddfan dan dywyllwch,
  Tywyllwch dudew fel y nos:
Mîl o boenau wasgodd arno,
  Eto darfu iddo eu dwyn,
Aeth i garchar gan yr angeu,
  Ran o dridiau er fy mwyn.
William Williams 1717-91

Tonau [8787D]:
Deerhurst (J Langran)
Joseph (Tom Price)
Llansannan (alaw Gymreig)
  Pen Cob (Llew Jones, Bae Colwyn.)
Sanctus (John Richards 1843-1901)

gwelir:
  Mae'r anialwch wedi'm blino
  O na chlywn yr utgorn arian
  Ti yw 'mywyd Ti yw'm gobaith

I will look up,
  come darkness, come night;
If peace comes to me from anywhere,
  It will come from the merit
      of the blood of the cross,
There is the place I will make my dwelling,
  Here I will hope evermore,
There is no health ever for my soul,
  Except in the divine mortal wound.

The hope of my soul is his merit,
  The hope of my soul is his strength:
Poor and weak, feeble and foolish
  I am, possessing nothing:
Through yonder I am looking,
  Across the distant, great hills,
And expecting my resting-place
  From the far better righteousness.

No fount has been opened
  Which can wash this guilty one;
But the fount which love
  Opened on Calvary hill:
Blood which can pay fully for faults,
  Blood which can open the portal of heaven;
And nothing satisfies the heavens,
  But His divine merit.

Behold one who has mercy,
  He who was hanging on the cross;
He who was groaning under darkness,
  Thick black darkness like the night:
A thousand pains pressed upon him,
  Still it happened that he bore them,
He went to prison by death,
  For a portion of three days for my sake.
tr. 2010,23 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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