O tyr'd i ben ddedwyddaf ddydd

O tyr'd i ben, ddedwyddaf ddydd,
A gâd i'm hysbryd fyn'd yn rhydd;
  Rho brawf,
      rho brawf ar frys i mi
  O ddwyfol haeddiant Calfari.

Fel gallwyf rodio'n ddinacâd
Dan awel hyfryd
    rin y gwaed;
  A threulio'm hamser, ddydd a nos,
  Mewn myfyr am dy angeu loes.


Ac na bo gras o fewn y nef
Na chaffwyf ran o hono ef;
  A gwna na byddo genyf flas,
  Ond yn dy gariad a dy ras.

Fy lloches, a fy noddfa glyd,
Fo edrych ar dy wyneb pryd;
  A'm hamser elo heibio'n llawn
  Wrth ganu i'th enw,
      foreu a nawn.


Fe enaid 'hed tua'r nef o hyd,
Ac aed dy galon yno i gyd;
  A doed cystuddiau i mewn yn lli,
  Minnau a gwynaf wrthyt ti:

'Does unrhyw ofid, unrhyw boen,
Na wasgodd ar yr addfwyn Oen;
  Ac yne ofid ef a'i gri,
  Mae holl esmwythder fy enaid i.


Mi wn mai meiau duon iawn,
Yw'r achoso'm cystuddiau'n llawn;
  Symud fy mai fe gwymp y ffon:
  O'th sanctaidd law y funud hon:

'Does yn dy galon ond lesâad,
Maddeuant, hêdd, a gwir iachâd;
  Cymmer dy ffordd, can's credu 'rwyf,
  Mai dyna'r modd
      iachêir fy nghlwy.

             - - - - -
          1,2,4;  1+2,3+4.

O! tyr'd i ben, ddedwyddaf ddydd,
Na gâd i'm hysbryd fyn'd yn rhydd;
  Rho brawf,
      rho brawf, ar frys i mi
  O haeddiant
      aberth Calfari.

Boed i mi rodio'n ddinacâd
Dan awel hyfryd
     rin dy waed
  A threulio'm hamser, ddydd a nos,
  Mewn myfyr am dy angeu loes.


O! na foed gras
    o fewn y nef
Na chaffwyf ran o hono ef;
  A gwna na byddo genyf flas
  Ond yn dy gariad, a dy ras.

Fy unig gysur yn y byd 
Yw edrych ar
    dy wyneb pryd;
  A'm horiau elo heibio'n llawn
  Wrth ganu am dy ddwyfol ddawn.

gwelir:
Fy enaid hed tua'r nef o hyd
Fy enaid tua'r nefoedd 'hed
I ble'r âi 'mofyn heddwch drud?
Mae'n perthyn i mi bob rhyw bla

O come to pass, thou last day,
And let my spirit go free;
  Give an experience,
      give an experience quickly to me
  Of the divine merit of Calvary.

Thus I may walk innocently
Under the delightful breeze
    of the virtue of thy blood;
  And spend my time, day and night,
  In meditation on thy throes of death.


And be there no grace within heaven
In which I have no part;
  And make me have no taste
  But of thy love and thy grace.

My secret place, and my secure refuge,
Be looking upon thy countenance;
  And may my time go past fully
  While singing to thy name,
      morning and evening.


My soul, fly toward heaven always,
And may thy heart go there altogether;
  And let afflictions come in as a flood,
  I shall complain unto thee:

There is no grief, no pain,
That did not press upon the gentle Lamb;
  And in his grief and his cry,
  Is all the relief of my soul.


I know that very black faults
Are the cause of my afflictions fully;
  Move my fault the rod falls:
  From thy sacred hand this minute:

In thy heart is nothing but benefit,
Forgiveness, peace, and true healing;
  Take thy way, since believing I am,
  That that is the way
      my wound shall be healed.

                - - - - -
 

O come to pass, thou last day,
Nor let my spirit go free;
  Give an experience,
      give an experience, quickly to me
  Of the merit
      of the sacrifice of Calvary.

Thus may I walk innocently
Under the delightful breeze
    of the virtue of thy blood
  And spend my time, day and night,
  In meditation about thy throes of death.


O that there would be no grace
    within heaven
In which I have no part;
  And make it that I have no taste
  But of thy love, and thy grace.

My only comfort in the world
Is to look upon
    the countenance of thy face;
  And may my days go past fully
  While singing about thy divine gift.