'Nawr ar ei fwrdd mae'r Brenin mawr

'Nawr ar ei fwrdd mae'r Brenin mawr,
Mewn gwisg o gariad hyd y llawr,
  Yn rhoddi'n rhad o'i hyfryd wledd
  I mi faddeuant llawn a hedd.

Haul hyfryd yw i'm henaid gwan,
Sy'n rhoddi'r grasau i darddu i'r lan;
  Mae'm hysbryd egwan wrth ei fodd
  Pan t'wyno'i lewyrch
      arna'i'n rhodd. 

Ond os absennol fydd efe,
A chwmmwl dudew yn ei le,
  Ni feddaf ddim ond poen a gwae,
  A rhyw anghredu, a llwfrhau.

Yn fuan tyr'd, fy Arglwydd cun,
Ac eistedd wrth dy fwrdd dy hun;
  A boed dy wleddoedd i barhau,
  A minnau byth i lawenhau.

               - - - - -

'Nawr ar ei fwrdd mae'r Brenin mawr,
Mewn gwisg o gariad hyd y llawr;
  Yn rhoddi'n rhad ol hyfryd wledd,
  I mi feddeuant llawn a hedd.

Mae peraroglau'i gariad drud,
Yn myn'd ar aden dawel glud;
  Ac yn cofleidio i'w fynwes gun,
  Gyfeillion Iesu bob yr un.

Anfeidrol yw ei gariad Ef,
A threch na'r cwbl dan y nef;
  Rhyw fflam angerddol gadarn lym,
  Nad oes yn bod a'i diffydd ddim.

Mae'n drech na dyfroedd lawer iawn,
Ac nac afonydd dyfnion llawn;
  Nid all'sai'r groes,
      a'r bicell gref,
  Ei ladd, na chwaith ei oeri ef.

Now at his table is the great King,
In garments of love down to the ground,
  Giving freely from his delightful feast
  To me full forgiveness and peace.

A delightful sun he is to my weak soul,
Who is giving the graces to spring up;
  My weak spirit is delighted
  When his radiance shines
      upon me as a gift.

And if he shall be absent,
And a thick black cloud in his place,
  I will possess nothing but pain and woe,
  And some unbelief, and loss of heart.

Come soon, my dear Lord,
And sit at thy own table;
  And let the feasts continue,
  And me forever enjoy them.

                - - - - -

Now at his table is the great King,
In garments of love down to the ground;
  Giving freely from his delightful feast,
  To me full forgiveness a peace.

The sweet aromas of his costly love, are
Going on quiet, secure wings;
  And enfolding to his dear breast,
  The friends of Jesus every one.

Infinite is His love,
Mightier than all that is under heaven;
  Some undying, firm, sharp flame,
  Which nothing will ever extinguish.

It is mightier than very many waters,
And than deep, full rivers;
  The cross could not,
      with the strong spear,
  Kill it, nor cool it either.