Trwy droeau'r byd a'i wên a'i wg

Trwy droeau'r byd,
    a'i wên a'i wg,
  Bid da, bid drwg y tybier,
Llaw Dduw'n sy'n troi'r cwmpasgylch glân
  Yn wiwlan, er na weler.

O'i dadawl ofal, ef a rydd
  Yr hyn y sydd gymhedrol,
O hawddfyd, adfy, iechyd, cur,
  Ond da'i gymhesur fantol?

Pe rhoem ar geraint, oed, neu nerth,
  Neu gyfoeth prydferth, oglyd;
Os Duw a'i myn, Fe'n teifl i lawr,
  A'n rhodres mawr mewn munud.

Os yfaist gwpan lawn o'i lid,
  A'th doi â
      gwrid a gwradwydd;
Od wyt Gyff
    cler a bustl i'r byd,
  Fe'th gyfyd i fodlonrwydd.

Fe weryd wirion yn y frawd
  Rhag enllib tafawd atgas;
Fe rydd orffwysfa i alltud blin
  Mewn anghynefin ddinas.

Ei gysur Ef
    sydd yn bywhau
  Y pennau gogwyddedig;
Fe sych â'i law
    y llif sy'n gwau
  Hyd ruddiau'r weddw unig.

Oes dim nac yn, na than y nef,
  Nad Ef sydd yn ei beri?
Ac Ef a roes (gwnaed dŷn ei ran)
  Y cyfan er daioni.

Pa raid ychwaneg? Gwnelwyf hyn:
  Gosteged gwŷn a balchder;
Arnat ti, Dduw, fy Ngheidwad glwys,
  Bid fy holl bwys a'm hyder.

Through the turns of the world,
    with its smile and its frown,
  Be there good, be there evil supposed,
God's hand is turning the holy orbit
  Worthily, holy, though not to be seen.

From his fatherly care he has given
  That which is suitable,
Do not pleasure, adversity, health, stroke,
  Come from his fair scales?

If we put confidence in a relative, age,
  Or strength, or beautiful riches,
If God willed, He would cast us down,
  With our great ostentation in a minute.

If I drank a cup full of his wrath,
  And thou shouldst bring
      ruddiness and reproach;
If thou shouldst be a Rod
    of flies and bile to the world,
  It would raise thee to satisfaction.

He will deliver the innocent in the brother
  From the slander of a hateful tongue
He will give rest to the weary exile
  In an unfamiliar city.

His comfort it is
    that gives life
  To the drooping heads;
He will dry with his hand
    the stream that weaves
  Along the cheeks of the lonely widow.

Is there anything in, nor under, heaven,
  That He is not causing?
And He has given (made man his portion)
  The whole for goodness.

What needs to be added?  I will do this:
  Let complaint and pride be calm;
And upon thee, God, my dear Saviour,
  Be my whole leaning and my confidence.

Through all the various
    shifting scenes
  Of life's mistaken ill or good. 
Thy hand, O God! conducts, unseen, 
  The beautiful vicissitude. 

Thou givest with paternal care, 
  Howe'er unjustly we complain, 
To all their necessary share 
  Of joy and sorrow, health and pain.

Trust we to youth, or friend, or power, 
  Fix we on this terrestrial ball?
When most secure, the coming hour 
  If thou see fit, may blast them all.

When lowest sunk with grief and shame,
  Filled with
      affliction's bitter cup,
Lost to relations,
    friends, and fame,
  Thy powerful hand can raise us up.






Thy gracious consolations cheer,
  Thy smiles suppress
      the deep-fetch'd sigh,
Thy hand can dry
    the trickling tear
  That secret wets th'afflicted eye.

All things on earth, and all in heaven,
  On thine eternal will depend;
And all for greater good were given.
  Would man pursue the appointed end.

Be this my care: to all beside
  Indifferent let my wishes be;
Passion be calm, and dumb be pride.
  And fixed my soul, great God, on thee.