O'm pen i'm traed annhraethol aflan wyf

O'm pen i'm traed,
    annhraethol aflan wyf,
Nid oes lanhâd
    ond yn Ei farwol glwyf;
  Y ffynnon hon agorwyd ar y bryn,
  Er dued wyf,
      a'm gylch yn hyfryd wyn.

Mae haeddiant mawr
    rhinweddol waed fy Nuw,
Yn llawer mwy na'r
    pechod gwaetha'i ryw;
  Ceir maddeu myrdd
      o'r beiau mwyaf gaed,
  A'r euog brwnt
      a gànir yn y gwaed.

Efe yw'r Iawn tros ein pechodau ni,
Ei ddryllio wnaed ar fynydd Calfari:
  Ein dyled mawr a dalwyd yno'n llawn,
  A'r llyfrau oll
      a groeswyd un prydnawn.

gwelir:
 Mae haeddiant mawr rhinweddol waed fy Nuw

From my head to my feet,
    inexpressibly unclean I am;
There is no cleansing
    but in his mortal wound;
  This fount that was opened on the hill,
  Despite how black I am,
      shall wash me delightfully white.

The great merit of
    the wonderful blood of my God
Is much greater than the
    sin of the worst kind:
  To be got is forgiveness of a myriad
      of the greatest sins there are,
  And the dirty, guilty one
      is to be bleached in the blood.

He is the Satisfaction for our sins;
He was broken on the mount of Calvary:
  Our great debt was paid there in full,
  And all the books
      were crossed one afternoon.