Golch ni,
Oddiwrth ein beiau aml ri',
Yn afon werthfawr Calfari;
Sydd heddyw yn llif o haeddiant llawn:
Er cymaint ein haflendid ni,
Yn dorf ddi-ri' ein golchi a gawn.
Rhad, ras,
Yw'r newydd gân bereiddia'i blas
Fu erioed
ar wyneb daear lâs;
Hi ddeil ei blas pan losgo'r byd,
A berwi'r môr, a'i dònau'n dân:
Y nefol gân fydd gras i gyd.
Mae'r awr
I'm gael yn llwyr fy meiau i'r llawr,
Yn mwriad fy Eiriolwr mawr:
Bu farw ef, caf finau fyw,
Er amled yw 'ngelynion cas,
Mae newydd flas ar air fy Nuw.
1: 1797 Hugh Jones 1749-18252: Grawn-Sypiau Canaan 1805 3: Pigion o Hymnau &c. 1808 (Clodforedd y saint am angeu y groes)
Golch ni
Oddiwrth ein beiau aml ri',
Yn afon werthfawr Calfari,
Sydd heddyw'n lli' o haeddiant llawn
Er cymmaint ein haflendid ni,
Yn dorf ddiri', ein golchi gawn.
Dy waed
Oedd pwrcas drud yr hyfryd wlad,
Bar'tow'd i mi yn eithaf rhad;
Dy gariad annherfynol maith,
A'm nertha mwy i fyn'd yn mlaen,
I Salem lân, ar ben fy nhaith.
1: 1797 Hugh Jones 1749-18252: Grawn-Sypiau Canaan 1805 Tôn [228.888]: Dorcas (D J James 1743-1831) gwelir: Bydd bydd (Rhyw ganu peraidd iawn ryw ddydd) Daeth trwy (Yr Iesu glân a'i farwol glwy') O pwy (All chwilio dyfais dwyfol glwy')? O tyn (Y gorchudd yn y mynydd hyn) Oes oes (Mae rhin a grym yn ngwaed y groes) Rhad ras (Yw'r newydd gân bereiddia'i blas) |
Wash us,
From our multitude of faults,
In the valuable river of Calvary;
Which is today a flow full of merit:
Despite the extent of our uncleanness,
As an innumerable throng we may get washed.
Free, grace,
Is the new song with the sweetest taste
There ever was
on the face of the blue-green earth;
It will hold its taste when the world burns:
And the sea boils, with it waves as fire:
The heavenly song will be all grace.
It is the hour,
For me to get completely my sins down,
In the scheme of my great Mediator:
He died, while I get to live,
Despite how may are my hated enemies,
There is a new taste to the word of my God.
(The praise of the saints for the death of the cross)
Wash us,
From our multitude of faults,
In the river of Calvary,
Which is today a flow full of merit:
Despite the extent of our uncleanness,
As an innumerable throng we may get washed.
Thy blood,
Was the costly purpose of the delightful land,
Prepared for me extremely graciously;
Thy unbounded, vast love,
Shall strengthen me evermore to go on,
To holy Salem, at the end of my journey.
tr. 2015 Richard B Gillion
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Free grace
The loveliest song of sweet solace
That e'er was heard
upon earth's face
As lovely still, when boils the sea
With waves of fire, and earth's in flames
That grace-filled heavenly song shall be.
tr. M J H Ellis (Monti)used by kind permission of the author |