'Rwy'n dy garu er nas gwelais,
  Mae dy gariad fel y tān;
Ni all nwydau cryf fy natur
  Sefyll mymryn bach o'th flaen;
    Fflam angerddol
  Rywbryd ddifa'r sorod yw.

Pell uwch geiriau, pell uwch deall,
  Pell uwch rheswm gorau'r byd,
Yw cyrhaeddiad perffaith gariad,
  Pan ennyno yn fy mryd:
    Nid oes tebyg
  Gras o fewn y nef ei hun.

Rhaid im' gadael ei ddirgelion,
  Hyfryd heb eu traethu gyd,
Am na's gallu, maent mor ddwfn
  Nes im' dreiddio maes o'r byd;
    Trag'wyddoldeb
  Mi gaf gwel'd ei gwreiddiau maes.

Mi gaf ieithoedd,
      mi gaf ddeall,
  Mi gaf yno berffaith ras,
I gael ffeindio hen ddyfnderoedd
  Pen Calfaria yn well i ma's;
    Tyred wyntoedd
  I gael chwythu'r nos i bant.

Nid oes yno ddiwedd canu,
  Nid oes yno ddiwedd clod,
Nid oes yno ddiwedd cofio
  Lles pob cystudd gaed erioed;
    Byth ni dderfydd
  Canmol Duw yn nhŷ fy Nhad.

Yno caf fi ddweud yr hanes
  P'odd y dringodd eiddil gwan,
Trwy afonydd, a thros greigydd
  Dyrus anial serth i'r lan;
    Iesu'i hunan
  Gaiff y clod
        trwy eitha'r nef.

Dechreu canu, dechreu canmol
  Yn mhen mil
        o filoedd maith
Iesu, bydd y pererinion
  Hyfryd draw ar
        ben eu taith;
    Ni cheir diwedd
  Fyth ar sŵn y delyn aur.

'Rwi'n dy garu er nas gwelais,
  Mae dy gariad fel y tān,
Nis gall nwydau cryfa' natur,
  Sefyll mymryn bach o'th flaen;
    Fflam angerddol,
  Ddifa'm sorod ryw bryd yw.

Y mae gwedd dy wyneb grasol,
  Yn rhagori llawer iawn,
Ar bob peth a welodd llygaid,
  Ar hyd wyneb daear lawn;
    Rhosyn Saron,
  Ti yw tegwch
        nef y nef.

Boed fy nghalon i ti'n deml,
  Arglwydd aros yno byth,
Ac o fewn fy yspryd egwan,
  Gwna dy drigfa bur ddilyth;
    Gwledd wastadol,
  Fydd dy bresennoldeb i'm'.

Daear, nef, ac uffern greulon,
  Sydd yn hollol tan dy law,
Dy ddoethineb sydd yn trefnu
  'R dwyrain, de', a'r gogledd draw;
    Ti bia'r cwbl,
  Wrth dy draed dymunwn fyw.

Tyred hyfryd fore tawel,
  Tyred hapus ddedwydd ddydd,
Pan bo'r dorau pres i agor,
  A'r carcharorion fyn'd yn rhydd;
    Rho arwyddion,
  O fod hyny yn nesāu.

O na welwn ddydd yn gwawrio,
  Bore hyfryd tawel iawn,
Haul yn codi heb un cwmwl,
  Felly'n machlud y prydnawn;
    Un diwrnod,
  Goleu eglur boed fy oes.

Aed y nos derfysglyd heibio,
  Doed y bore cyn bo hir,
Pan y caffo'm henaid wledda,
  Yn y Ganaan oleu glīr;
    Gydâ myrddiwn,
  O'i rai ffyddlon anwyl ef.

gwelir:
  Aed y nos derfysglyd heibio
  Ar ddisgwylfa uchel gribog
  Boed fy nghalon iti'n demel
  Dechrau canu dechrau canmol
  Gweld dy gariad anorchfygol
  Mae gelynion i mi'n chwerw
  Nid o'r ddaear mae fy mhleser
  Nid oes gofid na therfysgoedd
  O gwasgerwch dew gymylau
  Y mae gwedd dy wyneb grasol

I love thee despite not having seen;
  Thy love is like the fire;
The strong passions of my nature cannot
  Stand a tiny bit before thee;
    A fervent flame
  Sometime it will devour the dross.

Far above words, far above understanding,
  Far above the best reasoning of the world,
Is the attainment of perfect love,
  When it kindle in my heart:
    There is nothing like
  Grace within heaven itself.

I must leave its secrets,
  Delightful without expounding them all,
For being unable, they are a deep sea
  Until I traverse out of the world;
    Eternity
  I will see its roots from then on.

I will have languages,
    I will have understanding,
  I will have there perfect grace,
To be better able to find out
      The old depths of the Head of Calvary;
    Come winds
  To blow the night away.

There, there is no end to singing,
  There, there is no end to praise,
There, there is no end to remembering
  The benefit of every affliction ever had;
    Forever without ceasing
  Praise-song of God in my Father's house.

There I may tell the story
  How he climbed, feeble, weak,
Through rivers, and over the rocks
  Of a tricky, steep desert to the goal;
    Jesus himself
  Will have the praise
        through the highest heaven.

Singing will begin, praising will begin
  At the head of a thousand
        thousands in extent
Jesus, the pilgrims will be
  Pleasant yonder at
        the end of their journey;
    There will be no end
  Ever to the sound of the golden harp.

I love thee though despite not having seen,
  Thy love is like the fire,
The strongest lusts of nature cannot
  Stand a short moment before thee;
    A fervent flame,
  Devouring my dross some time is.

The countenance of thy gracious face is
  Exceeding very much,
Everything my eyes can see,
  All along the face of the full earth;
    The Rose of Sharon,
  Thou art the fairness
        of the heaven of heaven.

Let my heart be to thee a temple,
  Lord, abide there forever,
And within my weak spirit,
  Make thy pure, unfailing dwelling;
    A constant feast,
  Will be thy presence to me.

Earth, heaven, and cruel hell,
  Are wholly under thy hand,
Thy wisdom it is which ordains
  The east, south, and yonder north;
    To thee belongs the whole,
  At thy feet I would wish to live.

Come, delightful, quiet morning,
  Come, happy, felicitous day,
When the brass doors should open,
  And the prisoners go free;
    Give signs,
  Of this being near.

O that I might see the day dawning,
  A delightful, very quiet day,
Sun rising without any cloud,
  Likewise setting in the evening;
    One day,
  Of clear light be my lifespan.

Let the tumultuous night go past,
  Let the morning come before long,
When my soul may get to feast,
  In the Canaan of clear light.
    With myriads,
  Of his dear faithful ones.

There shall I rehearse the story,
  How a weakling faint and worn,
Was o'er rocks and through deep waters,
  To eternal glory borne:
    Jesus wholly,
  Shall absorb
        the songs of heaven.

But begun will be the singing
  Unto Jesus
        round His throne,
By the saved when tardy ages
  With their songs
        and joys are flown:
    And for ever,
  Shall the golden harps resound.