O gwrando nefol Oen

  O gwrando, nefol Oen,
    Ruddfanau'r gwael ei lun,
  Sydd dan ryw ddirfawr boen,
    Yn d'rysu ynddo'i hun;
Gelynion fil, bob awr o'r dydd,
O fewn, o faes, yn curo sydd.

  Er temtasiynau cnawd,
    A holl bwysiau byd,
  Llid uffern fawr a'i gwawd,
    Mewn cyngrair glos yn nghyd,
Mae gwynt y nef,
      pan leia' ei rym,
Yn gwneud eu temtasiynau'n ddim.

  Mae nerthoedd mawr fy Nuw,
    (A'i nerthoedd yw ei ras,)
  Yn llawer trech eu rhyw
    Na'm beiau cyndyn, cas;
A pheraroglau Sïon fryn
A'm dalant yn yr anial hyn.

  Pe caent fy mhen i lawr,
    A'm mynwes tan y don,
  Gelynion cryfion 'nawr
    A lawenhaent o'r bron;
Neb ond tydi fu ar y gro's
A gynal f'enaid ddydd a nos.

  O ddydwydd, wych brydnawn,
    Pan seinio'r nef i ma's,
  Trwy udgorn peraidd iawn,
    Orchestion nefol ras;
Telynau aur yn canu'n un,
Effeithiol goncwest Mab y dyn.

  O listen, heavenly Lamb, to
    The groans of one in a poor condition,
  Who are under some extreme pain,
    Bewildered within himself;
A thousand enemies, every hour of the day,
Within, without, who are beating.

  Despite temptations of flesh,
    And all the forces of the world,
  The wrath of great hell and its scorn,
    In a close league together,
The wind of heaven is,
      when its force is least,
Making their temptations nothing.

  The great powers of my God,
    (And his powers are his grace,)
  Are mightier in kind
    Than my detestable, stubborn sins;
And the sweet aromas of Zion hill
Shall hold me in this desert.

  If they got my head down,
    And my breast under the wave,
  Strong enemies now
    Would rejoice every one;
None but thou, who wast on the cross,
Shall uphold my soul day and night.

  O happy, brilliant afternoon,
    When heaven sounds out,
  Through a very sweet trumpet,
    The exploits of heavenly grace;
Golden harps singing as one,
The effective conquest of the Son of Man.