Mae lluoedd maith ymlaen,
'Nawr o'u carcharau'n rhydd,
A gorfoleddu maen'
Oll wedi cario'r dydd:
I'r lan, i'r lan diangasant hwy,
Yn ôl eu traed
y sangwn mwy.
Gadâwn y byd ar ol,
Y byd y cawsom wae,
Y byd ag sydd bob dydd,
Yn ceisio'n llwfrhau;
Ni welwn wlad
rhwng ser y nef,
Sydd fil o weithiau'n well nag ef.
A fawdd 'tifeddion gras
Yn nyfnder môr i lawr,
Unwaith a ddaeth i maes
O'r dwfn gystudd mawr?
Na wnant, na wnant, ni a ddown i'r làn,
I dir y bywyd yn y man.
Cawn lànio i mewn i fysg
Y rhai y clywsom sôn
A gannodd bawb ei wisg
Yn nwyfol waed yr Oen,
A gwledda'n llon heb ddiwedd mwy
Yn bur yn eu cwmpeini hwy.
Cawn wel'd yr addfwyn Oen,
Fu farw ar y Bryn,
Yn medi ffrwyth ei boen
Yn hyfryd y pryd hyn:
Bydd myrdd heb rif
yn canu 'nghyd
I'r hwn fu farw dros y byd.
Fe genir coron ddrain
Wrth ganu gwaed y groes,
Fe gofir picell fain
Wrth gofio angeu loes;
Fe seinia'r holl dorfeydd yn un,
Bob rhan o boenau Mab y dyn.
Ni chollwyd gwaed y groes
Erioed am ddim i'r llawr,
Ddyoddefwyd angeu loes
Heb ryw ddybenion mawr:
A dyma oedd ei amcan Ef,
Ein dwyn o'r byd
i deyrnas nef.
Fe gan 'tifeddion gras,
Ar fore glas a ddaw,
Wrth weled boddi'r Aipht,
A hwythau'r ochr draw:
Fy enaid 'hed i ben y bryn,
I wel'd y concwest rhyfedd hyn.
Câf wel'd Iorddonen faith,
Yn dal ei dyfroedd du,
I'm dwyn i ben fy nhaith,
Yr etifedd'aeth fry:
Pa'm 'r ofnai lu? mi âf y'mlaen,
I'r Ganaan wiw
trwy ddw'r a thân.
Mae'r faner fawr yn mlaen,
Efengyl nef yw hon;
Mae uffern, lawn o dân,
Yn crynu ger ei bron:
Hi gwymp, hi gwymp,
er maint ei grym,
O flaen fy Iesu 'd yw hi ddim.
Mae'r ffordd yn awr yn rhydd,
Agorwyd hi o bob tu,
O ddyfnder daear lâs,
I entrych nefoedd fry;
O dring, o dring, fy enaid mwy,
Mae nerth i'w gael
mewn marwol glwy'.
sangwn :: sengwn Gadâwn :: Gadêwn fawdd :: fodd Cawn lanio :: Cawn dirio A gannodd bawb :: Gànasant bawb nwyfol :: ngwethfawr cwmpeini :: cymdeithas Cawn wel'd yr addfwyn :: Mae yno'r addfwyn
Bydd myrdd heb rif ::
Tonau [666688]:
gwelir: |
There are vast hosts ahead,
Now from their prisons free,
And rejoicing they are
All after carrying the day:
Up, up they had escaped,
In their footprints
we shall tread evermore.
Let us leave the world behind,
The world where we had woe,
The world which is every day,
Trying to dishearten us;
We see a world between
the stars of heaven,
Which is a thousand times better than it.
Shall the heirs of grace drown
Down in the depth of the sea,
Who once came out
of the great, deep tribulation?
The shall not, shall not, we shall come up,
To the land of life soon.
We may land in amongst
Those of whom we have heard mention
Who all bleached their clothes
In the divine blood of the Lamb,
And feast cheerfully with no more end
Purely in their company.
We may see the gentle Lamb,
Who died on the Hill,
Harvesting the fruit of his pain
Delightfully at that time:
There will be a myriad
without number singing together
To him who died for the world.
The crown of thorn is to be sung
While singing the blood of the cross,
The sharp spear is to be remembered
While remembering the throes of death;
All the multitudes shall sound as one,
Every part of the pains of the Son of man.
The blood of the cross was never
Shed down for nothing,
Nor the throes of death suffered
Without some great purposes:
And this was His plan,
To take us from the world
to the kingdom of heaven.
The heirs of grace shall sing,
On that blue morn to come,
On seeing the drowning of Egypt,
And they on the other side:
My soul, fly to the top of the hill,
To see this wonderful conquest.
I will get to see vast Jordan,
Holding its black waters,
To bear me to my journey's end,
The inheritance up above:
Why shall I fear a host? I will go forward,
To the worthy Canaan
through water and fire.
The great flag is ahead,
The gospel of heaven is this;
Hell, full of fire, is
Trembling before it:
She shall fall, she shall fall,
despite the extent of her force,
Before my Jesus she is nothing.
The way is now free,
It was opened on every side,
From the depth of blue-green earth,
To the vault of heaven above;
O climb, O climb, my soul evermore,
There is strength to be got
in a mortal wound.
:: :: :: :: Who all bleached :: They will bleach divine :: precious company :: fellowship We may see the gentle :: There is the gentle
There will be a myriad without number :: tr. 2012,17 Richard B Gillion |
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