Nat(t)ur a'i llyfr agored yw

Natur a'i llyfr agored yw,
I daenu clod ei Chrëwr Duw;
  A chwbl o waith
      ei ddwylaw gref
  'Ddengys mai teilwng Dduw yw Ef.

Ond yn y gras achubodd ddyn,
Gwel'd dull 'i ogoniant teca'r y'm;
  Yma, ar y groes, ei dynnu wnaed,
  Mewn leiniau coch o werthfawr waed.

Yma'i holl enw Ef sy'n llawn;
Na ddeall rheswm,
    dysg, na dawn,
  P'un o'r llythrennau tecaf yw,
  Doethineb, nerth, neu gariad Duw.

4 Gwel'd yma'i galon 'rwyf o'i fewn,
Lle'r una gras a dial llawn,
  Yn gwanu'i Fab â dolur llym,
  I brynu gras a phardwn im'.

O felus wyrthiau croes Mab Duw!
Fe'n caru a marw i mi gael byw!
  O'i ystlys friw a'i glwyfau drud
  Tynn f'enaid fywyd llawn o hyd.

Dymunwn draethu'i enw
    a'i glod
I rai na 'dwaenais i erio'd,
  Ac uno â'r angylion mad
  I foli'r Oen
      wrth faingc ei Dad.

Nature with its book is open,
To spread the praise of its Creator God;
  And the whole of the work
      of his strong hands
  Show that a worthy God is He.

But in the grace which saved man,
See the manner of his fairest glory we do;
  Here, on the cross, it was drawn,
  In red lines of precious blood.

Here to His whole name which is full;
Reason does not understand,
    nor learning, nor talent,
  Any one of the fairest letters is,
  The wisdom, strength, or love of God.

To see here his heart I am within it,
Where unite grace and retribution fully,
  Piercing his Son with sharp sorrow,
  To purchase grace and pardon for me.

O sweet miracles of the cross of God's Son!
He loving and dying for me to get to live!
  From his injured side and his costly wounds
  My soul will draw full life always.

I would wish to expound his name
    and his praise
To someone I have never known,
  And unite with the renowned angels
  To extol the Lamb
      by the throne of his Father.

Nature with open volume stands,
  To spread her maker's praise abroad;
And every labour
    of His hands
  Shows something worthy of a God.

But in the grace that rescued man
  His brightest form of glory shines;
Here, on the cross, 'tis fairest drawn,
  In precious blood and crimson lines.

Here His whole name appears complete;
  Nor wit can guess,
      nor reason prove,
Which of the letters best is writ,
  The power, the wisdom, or the love.

Here I behold His inmost heart,
  Where grace and vengeance strangely join,
Piercing His Son with sharpest smart,
  To make the purchased pleasure mine.

O! the sweet wonders of that cross,
  Where God the Saviour loved and died
Her noblest life my spirit draws
  From His dear wounds and bleeding side.

I would forever
    speak His name,
  In sounds to mortal ears unknown;
With angels join to praise the Lamb,
  And worship
      at His Father's throne.