Pan syllaf ar y ryfedd groes

Pan syllaf ar y ryfedd groes
  Lle trengodd hardd Dywysog Hedd
Rwy'n cyfri'n ddim
    holl gyfoeth oes,
  A cholled yw pob bydol wledd.

Na foed i mi ymffrostio'n awr
  Heb law yn angeu Crist Ei hun:
Y pethau pennaf fedd y llawr,
  Aberthaf hwynt i'w ddwyfol rîn.

When I star at the wonderful cross
  Where the beautiful Prince of Peace died
I am counting as nothing
    all the wealth of an age,
And loss is every earthly feast.

May I not boast now
  Except in the death of Christ himself:
The chief things the earth possesses,
  I sacrifice them to his divine merit.

When I survey the wondrous cross
  On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain
    I count but loss,
  And pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
  Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
  I sacrifice them to His blood.