O mor ddedwydd meibion Duw

O! mor ddedwydd meibion Duw
Sydd ā'u rhan mewn
    Prynwr byw;
  Hwy achubir o
      law'r bedd,
  Ant i wlad
      y fythol wledd:
O! am fod o'u rhif yn awr,
Dan amgeledd f'Arglwydd mawr.




Carwyd hwy cyn
    seilio'r byd,
Ffrwythau'r cariad gānt mewn pryd;
  Cyfiawnheir eu henaid tlawd,
  Brenin nef yw 'u henaf frawd:
O! am fod o'u rhif yn awr,
Dan amgeledd f'Arglwydd mawr.




Saif eu traed ar oesol Graig,
Maeddant holl gyfrwysdra'r ddraig;
  Er na feddant
      fawr o'r byd,
  Eiddo rhai'n yw'r nef i gyd:
O! am fod o'u rhif yn awr,
Dan amgeledd f'Arglwydd mawr.

O! how happy the sons of God
Are with their portion in
    in the Redeemer of the world;
  They shall be saved from
      the hand of the grave:
  They shall go to the land
      of the everlasting feast:
O to be of their number now,
Under the succour of my great Lord!




They were loved before
    the world's founding,
The fruit of love they shall have in time;
  Their poor soul shall be justified,
  Heaven's King is their oldest brother:
O to be of their number now,
Under the succour of my great Lord!




Their feet shall stand on the Rock of ages,
They deserve all the dragon's craftiness;
  Although they do not possess
      much from the world,
  Their possession is all of heaven:
O to be of their number now,
Under the succour of my great Lord!

How great the Christian's portion is!
What heaps of joy, what worlds of bliss,
  The Lord for them prepares!
Their boundless treasures who can know?
For all above, and all below,
  And God, and Christ are theirs!

The hand of God supplies their wants,
And supersedes their deep complaints,
  With mercies still renewed:
Though they are hurried up and down,
And through a sea of troubles run,
  Yet all things work for good.

Jesus, and all in Him, is theirs:
They are adopted sons and heirs
  Of God, through grace divine:
Jesus has washed them in His blood,
And with His grace their souls endowed;
  They in His image shine.

Why talk we now of earthly things,
The wealth of empires, crowns of kings,
  Or aught below the skies?
Can crowns or sceptres be compared
With that exceeding great reward
  On which we fix our eyes?

God is our own, the God of love,
And endless stores in heaven above;
  What can we covet more?
Possessed of this, what can we want?
Away, all carnal discontent!
  We have an endless store.