Hen Feibl Mawr Fy Mam

Mil henffych, Feibl tirion,
    wyt werthfawr genyf fi,
Ac anwyl gan fy nghalon
    yw'r olwg arnat ti;
  'Roedd ynwyf dyb barchedig,
      Cyn i mi droedio cam,
  Mai rhywbeth cysegredig
      oedd Beible mawr fy mam.

Mil harddach yw'th ddalenau,
    â'u holl gornelau'n troi,
Na phe baent aur ymylau
    acirc; chlaspiau heirdd i'w cloi;
  Nid anmharch wnaeth dy faeddu,
      nid anghof roes it' gam,
  Ond trysor penau'r teulu
      oedd Beible mawr fy mam.

Pan fyddai'r dydd yn agor,
    ac ynyr hwyr yn facirc;d,
Ti fu yn gweini'r allor
    deuluaidd gyda 'nhad;
  Ond ow! daeth chwalfa withian
      i'r tulu mwyn dinam,
  Nid oes on my fy hynan,
      a Beible mawr fy mam.

'Rwyn cofio 'mam yn burion,
    dan aethau profiad llym,
Ynsugno o'th gysuron,
    yn cael o honot rym:
  Dan eithaf aeth a chyni,
      mewn hdd anghofiai' cham, -
  Nid oes gyffelyb i ti,
      hen Feibl mawr fy mam.

A phan ddystrywiai angau
    ei phabell hyd ei sail,
Hi bwysai ar y seliau
    ddatguddiwyd ar dy ddail;
  Cynalia f'enaid inau,
      pan f'wyf yn rhoddi'r llam
  I'r bythol faith drigfanau,
      hen Feibl fawr fy mam.

'Oes dynion ar y ddaear,
    dan rith santeiddiawl fri,
Am ddwyn fy Meibl hawddgar
    am byth o'm meddiant i?
  Na feiddiwch ein hysgaru,
      chwi wnewch acirc;'m henaid gam,
  Mae 'nghalon wei'i chlymu
      wrth Feibl mawr fy mam.

Hi rhoes ef i'm wrth farw,
    gan dd'wedyd wrthwy'n llon,
"Rhwym hwn o gylch dy wddw'
    a gwisga ar dy fron;"
  Af at y 'stanc i drengu,
      mi hunaf yn y fflam,
  Cyn rhoddaf byth i fyny
      hen Feibl mawr fy mam.

A thousand hails, dear Bible,
    thou art valuable to me,
And beloved by my heart
    is the sight of thee;
  There was in me a reverent notion,
      before I took one step,
  That something sacred
      was the great Bible of my mother.

A thousand times more beautiful are thy pages,
    with all their corners turning,
Than if there were gold edges
    and splendid claps to lock;
  Not irreverence did beat thee,
      not forgetfulness did thee wrong,
  But the family's chief treasure
      was the great Bible of my mother.

When the day would open,
    and in the evening beneficially,
Thou wast serving the family
    altar with my father.
  But alas ruin has now come
      to the dear, harmless family,
  There is only myself,
      and the great Bible of my mother.

I remember my mother exactly,
    under the griefs of a sharp trial,
Suckling from thy comforts,
    getting from thee strength:
  Under extreme grief and distress,
      in peace forgetting her harm, -
  There is nothing comparable to thee,
      great old Bible of my mother.

And when death would destroy
    her tent as far as its foundation,
She would lean on the foundations
    revealed on thy leaves;
  Support my soul also,
      when I am giving the leap
  To the everlasting, vast residences,
      great old Bible of my mother.

Are there are men on the earth,
    under an illusion of sacred virtue,
For taking my beautiful Bible
    forever from my possession?
  Do not dare to separate us,
      you who do my soul harm,
  My heart has been tied
      to the great Bible of my mother.

She gave it to me while dying,
    saying to me cheerfully,
"Bind this around thy neck,
    and wear it on thy breast;"
  I will go to the stake to perish,
      myself in the flame,
  Before I will ever give up
      the old great Bible of my mother.