Clôd clôd (I'r hwn a'm carodd cyn fy môd)

1,2,(3),4,5.
(Diwedd galar, dechreu gwynfyd.)
        Clôd clôd,
I'r hwn a'm carodd cyn fy môd,
Mae'm llêf am ddilyn ol ei droed,
  Nes i'm gael d'od, i'w dawel hêdd:
I'r lle mae llawnder
    ar bob law,
  Heb boen na braw, tu draw i'r bêdd.

        Daw, dydd,
Y cân y dinasyddion sydd,
Gan rym y don, a'u bron yn brudd,
  Y bore tawel sydd ger llaw,
Ac yno bydd soniarus dôn,
  O fawl i'r Oen,
      heb boen na braw.

        Bydd, bydd,
Llaweyndd na raid bod yn brudd,
I bawb sy'n meddu bywiol ffydd;
  Can's dyma'r dydd
      bydd gwaeddi "Dewch
Chwi fendigedig blant fy Nhad"
  I'r nefol wlad,
      o'i rad yr ewch.

        'Rwy, 'rwy,
At y terfyn i fyn'd trwy,
I'r wlad yn glau na theimlaf glwy,
  Rhyw hyfryd sabboth pur dilyth,
Ym mysg y dyrfa hardd, ddi-boen,
  Yn canu i'r Oer, heb ddiwedd byth.

        Eu cân,
Fydd am Galfaria, fawr a mân.
Ac oll yn gariad, oll yn dan;
  Yn gwel'd yn lân, lwyr gwblâu,
Bob gair a ddaeth o'i enau ef,
  A'i gariad ef byth yn parâu.
Grawn-Sypiau Canaan 1805

Tonau [288.888]:
Glan-yr-Afon (David Davies 1810-75)
Prosper (<1829)

gwelir:
  Bydd bydd (Yn llawen Sion daeth y dydd)
  Daw dydd (Y cân y dinasyddion sydd)
  Fe gân (Y gwaredigion fawr a mân)
  O Bydd (Yn llawen Seion daeth y dydd)
  'Rwy 'rwy (Fi ar y terfyn i fyn'd trwy)

(The end of mourning, the beginning of blessedness.)
        Praise praise,
To him who loved me before I was,
My cry is to follow his footprints,
  Until I get to come, to his quiet peace:
To the praise where there is fullness
    on every hand,
  Without pain or terror, beyond the grave.

        It will come, the day,
Of the song of the citizens who,
By the force of the wave, were quite sad,
  The quiet morning is at hand,
And the shall be a loud tune,
  Of praise to the Lamb,
      without pain or terror.

	There shall be, shall be,
Joy, nor need to be sad,
For all who are possessing a lively faith;
  Since here is a day when
      there shall be shouting, "Come
Ye blessed children of my Father"
  To the heavenly land,
      of his grace ye shall go.

        I am, I am,
To the border to go through,
To the land quickly nor feel any wound,
  Some delightful, pure, unfailing sabbath,
Amongst the beautiful throng, without pain,
  Singing to the Lamb, with never any end.

        Their song,
Shall be about Calvary, great and small.
And all as love, all as fire;
  And completely seeing, fully fulfilling,
Every word that came from his mouth,
  And his love forever enduring.
tr. 2018 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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