O Arglwydd 'rwy'n cyfadde'n brudd

O Arglwydd, 'rwy'n cyfadde'n brudd
Fod perygl imi golli'r dydd:
  Mae modd i'r halen
      golli'i flas,
  A minau syrthio oddiwrth ras.

Rhag byth i hyn gymeryd lle,
O cynal f'enaid hyd y ne':
  Mewn undeb ffydd
      bob dydd, O Dad,
  Dal fi â'th iachawdwriaeth rad.

O Lord, I am confessing sadly
There is a danger of my losing the day:
  There is a way for the salt
      to lose its taste,
  And for me to fall from grace.

Lest this ever take place,
O support my soul as far as heaven:
  In the unity of faith
      every day, O Father,
  Hold me with thy gracious salvation.

Ah Lord, with trembling I confess,
A gracious soul may fall from grace;
  The salt may lose
      its seasoning power,
  And never, never, find it more.

Lest that my fearful case should be,
Each moment knit my soul to thee;
  And lead me to
      the mount above,
  Through the low vale of humble love.