Paham yr ofna'm henaid cu
I lànio i'r hafan hyfryd fry?
On'd oes mil myrdd,
heb aeth na braw,
O frodyr i'm croesawu draw?
Ac oni chaf fi fod yn mhlith
Y ffryns a gâr fy nghalon byth?
Gwyryfon pur, cywir i'r Iôn,
Cariadau'r croeshoeliedig Oen.
Os câf, bechadur, fyned fry,
Yn iach o'm briw i blith y llu
Sy â'u gwisgoedd hardd
fel eira gwỳn,
Yn canu fry ar Seion fryn;
Fy llais a glywir uwch y llèn
Yn adsain yr holl nefoedd wèn,
Yn mhlith y dorf bwrcasodd gwaed,
Âg enaid rhydd yn gwaeddi, "Rhâd!"
Wrth feddwl am yr hyfryd fraint
O foddi'm sŵn yn mhlith y saint,
Mae'm henaid am ymgodi'n lân
I'r nefoedd fry mewn fflam o dân.
Tunes [MH 8888]: |
Why shall my dear soul fear
To land in the delightful haven above?
Are there not a thousand myriad,
without pang or terror,
Of my brothers crossing yonder?
And shall I not get to be amongst
The friends that my heart loves forever?
Pure virgins, true to the Lord,
The lovers of the crucified Lamb.
If I get, a sinner, to go above,
Whole from my bruise amongst the throng
With their beautiful garments
like white snow,
Singing above on Zion hill;
My voice is to be heard above the curtain
Resounding the whole bright heavens,
Amongst the throng blood purchased,
With a soul free shouting, "Free!"
On thinking about the delightful privilege
Of drowning my sound amongst the saints,
My soul wants to lift itself up
To heaven above in a flame of fire.
tr. 2016,25 Richard B Gillion |
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