Mae myrdd o ryfeddodau (Yn mherson Iesu Grist)

Mae myrdd o ryfeddodau
  Yn mherson Iesu Grist;
Rhodd lawer gwledd i'm henaid
  Pan oeddwn fwyaf trist;
Cān, f'enaid, am ei gariad,
  Ac hefyd am ei ras,
Sy'n maddeu ac yn clirio
  Y beiau mwya' i maes.

Pwy welaf fel f'anwylyd,
  Yn hyfryd ac yn hardd?
Fel ffrwythlon bren afalau,
  'N rhagori ar brenau'r ardd?
Ces eistedd tan ei gysgod,
  Ar lawer cawod flin,
A'i ffrwyth oedd fil o weithiau
  I'm genau'n well na gwin.

gwelir: Pwy welaf fel f'anwylyd?

There is a myriad of wonders
  In the person of Jesus Christ;
He gave many a feast to my soul
  When I was the most sad;
Sing, my soul, about his love,
  And also about his grace,
Which is forgiving and clearing
  The greatest faults out.

Whom do I see like my beloved,
  Delightful and beautiful?
Like a fruitful tree of apples,
  Excelling the trees of the garden?
I got to sit under his shade,
  Upon many a grievous shower,
And his fruit was a thousand times
  Better to my mouth than wine.