Tydi a garaf Arglwydd nef

Tydi a garaf, Arglwydd nef,
Fy ngraig, fy nhŵr, fy noddfa gref;
  Rho'f ar d'alluog fraich fy mhwys;
  Trwy hon ce's iachawdwriaeth ddwys.

Angau, a dychrynfeydd y bedd,
Amgylchant fi mewn echrys wedd;
  A'r llif o demtasiynau mawr,
  Nes soddi f'enaid gwan i lawr.

Mi welais byrth uffernol ffau,
Lle mae wylofain byth a gwae;
  Ni ddichon neb dd'weud dosted yw,
  Ond y damnedig sy 'no 'n byw.

Yn fy nghyfyngder gelwais Dduw,
Braidd gall'swn dd'weud, Fy eiddo yw;
  Gostyngai 'i glust i
      wrando'm cwyn,
  A'i ras amlygodd i mi 'n fwyn.

Mewn brys i'm cadw 'hedeg wnaeth,
Fel cerub ar adenydd daeth;
  Fel mellten, dysglaer
      iawn a syn
  Oedd gwedd f'Achubwr,
      Duw, bryd hyn.

gwelir: Rhan II - Profedigaethau ffoisant ffwrdd

Thou I shall love, Lord of heaven,
My rock, my tower, my strong refuge;
  I will lean on thy mighty arm;
  Through this I got intense salvation.

Death, and the terrors of the grave,
They surround me in a dreadful countenance;
  And the flood of great temptations,
  Until my weak soul sinks down.

I saw the gates of a hellish lair,
Where there is weeping forever and woe;
  No-one is able to say how painful it is
  But the damned who are living there.

In my straits I called on God,
I could almost say, My own it is;
  He bowed his ear to
      listen to my complaint,
  And his grace he multiplied to me gently.

Quickly to save me fly he did,
Like a cherub on wings he came;
  Like lightning, very
      bright and surprising
  Was the countenance of my Saviour,
      God, then.

Thee will I love, O Lord, my strength,
  My rock, my tower, my high defence:
Thy mighty arm shall be my trust,
  For I have found salvation thence.

Death, and the terrors of the grave,
  Stood round me with their dismal shade;
While floods of high temptations rose,
  And made my sinking soul afraid.

I saw the op'ning gates of hell,
  With endless pains and sorrows there,
Which none but they that feel can tell;
  While I was hurried to despair.

In my distress I called my God,
  When I could scarce believe him mine:
He bowed his ear
    to my complaint,
  Then did his grace appear divine.

With speed he flew to my relief,
  As on a cherub's wing he rode;
Awful and bright
    as lightning shone
  The face of my
      deliverer, God.