Clywch fel mae'n Prynwr oddi fry

Clywch fel mae'n Prynwr oddi fry
Yn gwahodd atto'i seintiau cu;
  O d'w'llwch caeth, ac ofnau cas,
  Yn addfwyn mae'n eu galw 'ma's.

"Fy nghlommen sydd yn holltau'r graig
Ar dorri' chalon, druan gwraig,
  Cyfod dy ben, nac ofna ddim,
  Moes glwyed llais dy enaid im'."

"Dy lais sy beraidd im' o hyd,
A'm gras sy brydferth yn dy bryd;
  Er bod y byd
      yn d'alw'n ddu,
  I'm golwg hawddgar wyt a chu."

Mae dy wahoddiad di yn dwyn
I ni fawr gysur, Iesu mwyn;
  Yn llawen attat ti'n ddi-dawl
  Dyrchefwn ninnau'n gweddi a'n mawl.

Eiddo f'Anwylyd wyf o'm bodd,
A'm heiddo i yw fe'r un modd;
  Mae'n calon a'n serchiadau'r un,
  Na yrred dim hwy'n anghyttun.

Fy enaid ddwg i'w dêg borfaydd,
I 'mborthi 'mhlith y lili a'r praidd;
  I blith ei saint
      a'u gwisgoedd fyw
  Sy wedi ' golchi
      'ngwaed Mab Duw.

Hyn oni wawrio'r disglair ddydd,
A chilio o'r cysgodau sydd,
  Tro'n fynych atta'i'th wyneb cu,
  Na'd f'enaid mewn tywyllwch du.

Fel iwrch ar wyrdd
    fynyddoedd bydd,
Naid dros fy meiau a'm hofnau prudd;
  O na wahaned pechod trist
  Byth rhyngof a'm Iachawdwr Crist.

Hear how the Redeemer from above is
Inviting to him his dear saints;
  From captive darkness, and hated fears,
  Gently he is calling them out.

"My dove who is in the clefts of the rock
About to break her heart, pitiful woman,
  Raise thy head, do not fear anything,
  Grant me to hear the voice of thy soul."

"Thy voice is sweet to me always,
And my grace is beautiful in thy mind;
  Although the world is
      calling thee black,
  To my sight beautiful thou art and dear."

Thy invitation is bearing
To us great comfort, gentle Jesus;
  Joyfully to thee unreservedly
  We return our prayer and our praise.

My Beloved's own I am willingly,
And my own is he in the same way;
  Our heart and our affections the same,
  May nothing drive them to discord.

My soul he leads to his fair pastures,
To feed me amongst the lily and the flock;
  To live amongst his saints
      with their garments
  That have been washed in the blood
      of the Son of God.

Until the dawning of the radiant day,
And the retreat of the shadows there are,
  Turn often to me thy dear face,
  Do not leave my soul in black darkness.

Be like a roe deer on
    the green mountains,
Leap over my faults and my sad fears;
  O may sad sin never separate
  Me from my Saviour Christ.

Hark, the Redeemer from on high
Sweetly invites his favourites nigh;
  From caves of darkness and of doubt,
  He gently speaks, and calls us out:

"My dove, who hidest in the rock,
Thine heart almost with sorrow broke,
  Lift up thy face, forget thy fear,
  And let thy voice delight mine ear."

"Thy voice to me sounds ever sweet;
My graces in thy countenance meet;
  Tho' the vain world
      thy face despise,
  'Tis bright and comely in mine eyes."

Dear Lord, our thankful heart receives
The hope thine invitation gives:
  'To thee our joyful lips shall raise
  The voice of prayer, and of praise.

I am my Love's, and he is mine;
Our hearts, our hopes, our passions join:
  Nor let a motion, nor a word,
  Nor thought arise to grieve my Lord.

My soul to pastures fair he leads,
Amongst the lilies where he feeds;
  Amongst the saints
      (whose robes are white,
  Wash'd in his blood)
      is his delight.

Till the day break, and shadows flee,
Till the sweet dawning light I see,
  Thine eyes to me-ward often turn,
  Nor let my soul in darkness mourn.

Be like a hart on
    mountains green,
Leap o'er the hills of fear and sin;
  Nor guilt, nor unbelief divide
  My Love, my Saviour from my side.