Mi wela(f) ffynnon lawn o waed

Mi welaf ffynnon lawn o waed 
  Y mwyn Immanuel mawr,
Lle gall troseddwyr mwyaf gaed
  Gael bywyd ynddi'n awr.

Bu dda i'r lleidr ar y groes
  Ei chaffael yn ei ddydd,
Maddeuwyd holl bechodau'i oes
  A'i enaid aeth yn rhydd.

Mae llais y nef yn galw'n awr
  Drueiniaid fawr a mân,
I ddyfod iddi ar y llawr,
  I'w golchi ynddi'n lân.

'Rwy'n d'od, 'rwy'n' d'od,
    fy Arglwydd Dduw,
  I 'mofyn am y gwaed;
O golch yn lân y dua'i liw
  Sy'n dysgwyl wrth dy draed.

Mi welaf ffynnon lawn o waed
  Sef gwaed y Meichiau mawr,
Lle gall troseddwyr mwyaf gaed
  Gael bywyd ynddi'n awr.

Mae llais y nef yn galw'n awr
  Drueiniaid fawr a mân,
I ddyfod iddi ar y llawr,
  I'w golchi oll yn lân.

Yr wyf yn dyfod, O fy Nuw,
  I 'mofyn am y gwaed,
O, golch yn lân y dua'i liw
  Sy'n dysgwyl wrth dy draed.

O am dafodau fil mewn hwyl
  I seinio gyda blas,
Ogoniant mawr fy Mhrynwr gwiw,
  A rhyfeddodau'i ras.

Mi welaf ffynnon lawn o waed
  O waed y Ceidwad mawr,
Lle gall troseddwyr mwyaf gaed
  Gael bywyd ynddi'n awr.

Bu'r lleidr aflan un prydnawn
  Yn edrych arni'n llon;
A miloedd olchwyd, oedd yn llawn
  Mor ddû ag ef, yn hon.

Mi ganaf fi tra byddwyf byw
  Am rinwedd gwaed yr Oen;
Ond mi gaf ganu cyn bo hir
  Mewn rhyw felysach dôn.

Mor beraidd odiaeth fydd fy nghainc
  Mewn anllwygredig wedd,
Tra byddo'r tafod musgrell hwn
  Yn ddystaw yn y bedd.

'Rwy'n credu caf fi delyn aur,
  Annheilwng er fy mod,
Ddarparodd Iesu er fy mwyn,
  I seinio maes ei glod.

Cyweiriwyd hi ar beraidd dôn
  Dros oesoedd rif y gwlith;
Caf daro'r tannau
    yn ddiboen,
  I Dduw a'r Oen dros byth.

gwelir:
  Agorwyd ffynnon i'n glanhau
  Mae ffyn(n)on hyfryd lawn o waed
  Mae ffynnon lân fy enaid cred
  O am dafodau fil mewn hwyl

I see a fount full of the blood
  Of the dear, great Immanuel,
Where the greatest sinners there are can
  Get life in it now.

It was good for the thief on the cross,
  To get himself in his day
Forgiven of all the sins of his life
 And his soul went free.

The voice of heaven is calling now
  Wretches great and small,
To come to it on earth below,
  For them to be washed clean in it.

I am coming, I am coming,
    my Lord God,
  To ask for the blood;
Oh wash clean the one of blackest colour
  Who is waiting at thy feet!

I see a fount full of blood,
  That is, the blood of the great Surety,
Where the greatest sinners there are can
  Get life in it now.

The voice of heaven is calling now
  Wretches great and small,
To come to it on earth below,
  For them all to be washed clean.

I am coming, O my God,
  To ask for the blood;
Oh wash clean the one of blackest colour
  Who is waiting at thy feet!

O for a thousand tongues in tune
  To sound with relish,
The great glory of my worthy Redeemer,
  And the wonders of his grace.

I see a fount full of blood,
  Of the blood of the great Saviour,
Where the greatest sinners there are can
  Get life in it now.

The unclean thief was one afternoon,
  Looking upon it cheerfully;
And thousands were washed, who were fully
  As black as he, in this.

I will sing while ever I live
  About the virtuous blood of the Lamb;
But I may get to sing before long
  In some sweeter tune.

How exquisitely sweet will be my verse
  In an incorruptible condition,
While this decrepit tongue is
  Silent in the grave.

I believe I will get a golden harp,
  Unworthy though I be,
Which Jesus prepared for my sake,
  To sound out his praise.

It was tuned on a sweet melody
  Across the ages numerous as dew;
I will get to strike the strings
    painlessly,
  To God and the Lamb forever.

There is a fountain filled with blood
  Drawn from Emmanuel's veins;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
  Lose all their guilty stains.

The dying thief rejoiced to see
  That fountain in his day;
And there may I, though vile as he,
  Wash all my sins away.

Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood
  Shall never lose its power,
Till all the ransomed ones of God
  Be saved, to sin no more.

There is a fountain filled with blood
  Drawn from Emmanuel's veins;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
  Lose all their guilty stains.

Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood
  Shall never lose its power,
Till all the ransomed ones of God
  Be saved, to sin no more.






[O for a thousand tongues to sing
   My great Redeemer's praise,
 The glories of my God and King,
   The triumphs of His grace!]

There is a fountain filled with blood
  Drawn from Emmanuel's veins;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
  Lose all their guilty stains.

The dying thief rejoiced to see
  That fountain in his day;
And there may I, though vile as he,
  Wash all my sins away.

E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream
  Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
  And shall be till I die.

Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
  I'll sing Thy power to save,
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue
  Lies silent in the grave.

Lord, I believe Thou hast prepared,
  Unworthy though I be,
For me a blood bought free reward,
  A golden harp for me!

'Tis strung and tuned for endless years,
  And formed by power divine,
To sound
    in God the Father's ears
  No other name but Thine.