O am orchfygol ffydd

  O! am orchfygol ffydd,
    Yn angau ddydd a ddaw,
I'n gwneud yn gryf yn erbyn grym,
    Yr angau llym gerllaw;
  Ac yna 'ngenau a gân
    Am gongcwest glân ei glwy;
P'le mae dy golyn, angau du?
    Ni's gwnai fy maeddu mwy.


  Os pechod a ddileir
    Ni cheir yn angau friw;
Y ddeddf sy'n rhoi i bechod nerth
    Ond Crist; fy mhridwerth yw:
  Yr hwn orchfygodd rym
    Yn angau llym a'r bedd;
Boed iddo'r clôd, o hyn i ma's
    Am roddi'i ras a'i hedd.

  O for insuperable faith!
    In death on the day to come,
To make us strong against the force
    Of the sharp death at hand;
  And then my mouth shall sing
    About the holy conquest of his wound;
Where is thy sting, black death?
    Thou shalt beat me no longer.


  If sin is destroyed
    There is no wound had in death;
It is the law that gives sin its power
    But Christ; he is my ransom:
  It is he who overcame the power
    In sharp death and the grave;
May the acclaim be to him, from now on
    For giving his grace and his peace.

O for an overcoming faith,
  To cheer my dying hours,
To triumph o'er the monster, Death,
  And all his frightful powers.

Joyful with all the strength I have
  My quivering lips should sing,
"Where is thy boasted victory, Grave?
  And where's the monster's sting?"

If sin be pardoned, I'm secure;
  Death has no sting beside;
The law gives sin its damning power,
  But Christ, my ransom, died.

Now to the God of victory
  Immortal thanks be paid,
Who makes us conquerors, though we die,
  Through Christ our living Head.