O na foed ardal cyn bo hir,
O'r dwyrain i'r gorllewin dir,
Na byddo'r iachawdwriaeth ddrud
Yn llanw cyrrau'r rhain i gyd.
O doed i ben hapusaf ddydd,
Darfydded sôn am bethau sydd,
Na'r byd, na'i rwysg,
na'i wae, na'i boen,
Ond canu byth
am waed yr Oen.
Dewch, addewidion, dewch yn awr,
Dihidlwch eich trysorau i lawr;
Myrddiynau ar fyrddiynau sydd
Yn disgwyl am y bore ddydd.
Doed gogledd, de a dwyrain pell
I glywed y newyddion gwell,
Ac eled sŵn Efengyl gras
Yn gylch oddeutu'r ddaear las.
Tonau [MH 8888]:
gwelir: |
O that there be no region before long,
From the East to the Western land,
Where the costly salvation not be
Filling the corners of them all.
O let the happiest day come to pass,
Let mention of the things that are perish,
And the world, and its ostentation,
and its woe, and its pain,
But singing forever
about the blood of the Lamb.
Come, promises, come now,
Drop your treasures down;
Myriads upon myriads are
Waiting for your dawning day.
Let North, South and distant East come
To hear the better news,
And let the sound of the Gospel of grace go
Around about the blue-green earth.
tr. 2008,23 Richard B Gillion |
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