Yn awr mewn ieuanc oedran, Da cofio Duw sancteiddlan; Hyfyrdwch ir i neb ni oes Yn niwedd oes annyddan. Ail ydyw einioes gwaelddyn I bedwar tymmor blwyddyn; Ieuenctid, mebyd, canol oes, A henaint croes yn dylyn. Mae'n fynych awel angau Yn gywo'r dail a'r blodau, Ac weithiau'n difa'r grawn a'r ffrwyth, Dan adwyth a dyrnodiau. Mae nifer o fabanod Yn gorwedd yn y beddrod; Daw'r bach a'r mawr o'r gwely pridd, Pan ddelo'r dydd cyfarfod. Heb rinwedd Gwaed y Cymmod I lwyr lanhâu'r gydwybod, Ni welir neb yn berffaith iâch: Mae pob dyn bach dan bechod. Nid henaint sydd ei hunan, Yn gorwedd mewn daearlan: Yn fynych iawn, mewn blodau oed, Gwyr ieuainc rhoed i'r graian. Mae angau'n elyn arfog, Arswydus iawn i'r euog: Rhag ofn i'w saeth wneud rhwygfa'n sur Y cryna gwKr coronog. Yn nydd yr adgyfodiad Y gwelir llawn amlygiad; Pwy fydd wir ddoeth, pwy fedd ar ddawn Y cywyr iawn arweiniad? Ystyried pob rhyw blentyn Pa beth à ddylai ddylyn: Ai cynghor gwr sy'n rhoddwr hael, Ai gweniaith gwael y gelyn. I'r dynion anghrediniol Mae poenau tost uffernol; Cartrefle blin anufudd blant; Caer adamant dragwyddol! I'r hyfryd oror dirion Dêg Iesu dwg ei weision; Caer Salem lân, crisialaidd lŷs: Goreulys ei garolion.efel. David Thomas (Dafydd Ddu o Eryri) 1759-1822 Caniadau Duwiol i Ieuenctid Cymru 1815 |
Now in a young age, Remember well sacredly holy God; The long delight to no-one is The end of an unhappy life. Another is the life of a base man For four seasons of a year; Youth, boyhood, middle age, And contrary old age following. Often is the breeze of death Withering the leaves and the flowers, And sometimes the grain and the fruit decays Under the adversity and blows. A number of babies are Lying in the tomb; Small and great shall come from the bed of soil, When the day of meeting comes. Without the merit of the Blood of the Reconciliation To completely cleanse the conscience, No-one is to be seen perfectly whole: Every little man is under sin. Old age is not itself Lying in an earth enclosure: Very often, in the flowers of age, Young men are put into the gravel. Death is an armed enemy, Very horrific to the guilty: Lest his arrow make a bitter rending The crowned man trembles. In the nest of the resurrection Is to be seen full evidence; Who shall be truly wise, who possessed of the gift Of the very true leading? Let every kind of child consider What he should follow: Whether the counsel of a man who is a generous giver, Or the base flattery of the enemy. For the unbelieving man There are sore, infernal pains; The dwelling-place of disobedient children; A firm eternal fortress! To the delightful frontier of lands Fair Jesus shall lead his servants; Holy Jerusalem, a crystal court: The supreme court of his carols.tr. 2016 Richard B Gillion |
Isaac Watts 1674-1748 |