Pan chwyth awel llwyddiant

Pan chwyth awel llwyddiant
    a'r tywydd yn deg,
  Pan gwyd y croeswyntoedd eu cri:
Mor hyfryd yw canu
    addewid fy Nuw,
  "Y mae pob peth yn dda gyda mi."

      Gyda Duw, gyda Duw,
      Y mae pob peth yn dda
          gyda Duw.

Y'nghanol helbulon
    a thrallod y byd,
  Fy nghusur, fy nghymorth i'w dwyn;
Mae'r Iesu yn barod
    i'm nerthu o hyd,
  Dioddefodd y groes er fy mwyn.

Fy meiau, fy meiau,
    holl feiau fy oes,
  Faddeuwyd ar Galfari fryn;
Fe gliriwyd fy nyled
    i gyd ar y groes,
  Mae fy enaid
      yn canu am hyn.

Mae'r Iesu, mae'r Iesu
    yn gyfaill a lŷn
  Yn nhonau'r Iorddonen a'i lli:
Mae'n sibrwd mewn bywyd
    ac angau yr un,
  "Y mae pob peth yn dda gyda mi."

I fyny mae tynfa
    fy enaid o hyd,
  I fyny i'r nefoedd i fyw:
I fyny ar ol
    gwaredigion y byd,
  At yr Iesu fy Mhrynwr a'm Duw.

When breezes of prosperity blow
    and the weather fair,
  When the contrary winds raise their cry:
How delightful to sing
    the promise of my God,
  "Every thing is good with me."

      With God, with God,
      Every thing is good
        with God.

In the midst of the troubles
    and afflictions of the world,
  My comfort, my support to be taken;
Jesus is ready
    to strengthen me always,
  He suffered the cross for my sake.

My sins, my sins,
    all the sins of my lifetime,
  Were forgiven on Calvary hill;
My debt was cleared
    altogether on the cross,
  My soul is
      singing about this.

Jesus is, Jesus is
    a friend who sticks
  In the billows of the Jordan and its flood:
He is whispering in life
    and death the same,
  "Every thing is good with me."

Up is the pull
    of my soul always,
  Up to heaven to live:
Up after the
    deliverances of the world,
  To Jesus my Redeemer and my God.

When peace like a river
    attendeth my way,
  When sorrows like sea-billows roll:
Whatever my lot
    thou hast taught me to know
  It is well, it is well with my soul.

      It is Well, with my soul,
      It is well, it is well
          with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet,
    though trials should come,
  Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded
    my helpless estate,
  And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin - oh, the bliss
    of this glorious thought -
  My sin - not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross,
    and I bear it no more,
  Praise the Lord,
      praise the Lord, O my soul!

For me, be it Christ,
    be it Christ hence to live:
  If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine,
    for in death as in life
  Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

But, Lord, ‘tis for Thee,
    for Thy coming we wait,
  The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh trump of the angel!
    Oh voice of the Lord!
  Blessèd hope, blessèd rest of my soul!