Yr awr hon i'r Arglwydd yr hwn sy'n ein dwyn

Yr awr hon i'r Arglwydd,
    yr hwn sy'n ein dwyn,
I wybod ei gariad yn marw ei ein mwyn,
  Y b'o gostyngedig anrhydedd īs nen,
  A mawl a gogonedd amgenach uchben.

Oddiwrth ein pechodau a'n beiau, bob un,
Fe'n golchodd ni yn ei 
    waed gwerthfawr ein hun;
  A gwaeth ni'n frenhinoedd
      a 'ffeiriaid gwir yw,
  Rai cyndyn a ddygodd yn agos at Dduw.

I'r Iesu'n hoffeiriad
    wnaeth drosom ni hedd,
I'r Iesu ein Brenin
    a'n Prynwr un wedd,
  Cyffeser yn hollol
      bob gallu'n ddilyth,
  A chaned pob genau
      'i ogoniant ef byth.

Fry ar y cymhylau yn ddiau fe ddaw,
Ei wel'd caiff pob llygad 
    yn dwad maes o law;
  Er gynt in' ei wanu,
      trwy bechu mor fawr,
  Fe ddengys ei gariad
      yn maddeu i ni 'nawr.

Y rhai ni chredasant
    alarant yn brudd,
A ninnau lawenwn
    pan welom y dydd;
  Tyr'd Arglwydd, na phalled
      d'addewid sy' wir,
  Olwynion dy gerbyd
      nac arbed yr hir.

Now to the Lord,
    who is bringing us,
To know his love in dying for our sake,
  Be humble honour under the sky,
  And better praise and glory up above.

From our sins and our faults, every one,
He washed us in his
    own precious blood;
  And made us kings 
     and priests, it is true,
  Stubborn ones he brought near to God.

To Jesus our High Priest 
    who made peace for us,
To Jesus our King 
    our Redeemer just the same,
  Be confessed completely 
      every power unfailingly,
  And let every mouth sing 
      his glory forever.

Up on the clouds doubtless he shall come,
Every eye may see
      him coming soon;
  Although once we pierced him,
      through sinning so greatly,
  His love appears forgiving us now.

Those who do not believe
    shall lament sadly,
Whereas we shall rejoice 
    when we see the day;
  Come, Lord, may thy promise, 
      which is true, not fail,
  May the wheels of thy chariot 
      not delay for long.

Now to the Lord
    that makes us know
  The wonders of his dying love,
Be humble honours paid below,
  And strains of nobler praise above.

'Twas he that cleans'd our foulest sins,
  And wash'd us in
       his richest blood;
'Tis he that makes us
    priests and kings,
  And brings us rebels near to God.

To Jesus, our
    atoning priest,
  To Jesus, our
      superior king,
Be everlasting
    power confessed,
  And every tongue
      His glory sing.

Behold, on flying clouds he comes,
  And every eye shall
      see him move;
Though with our sins
    we pierc'd him once,
  Then he displays his pardoning love.

The unbelieving 
    world shall wail
  While we rejoice
      to see the day:
Come, Lord; nor let
    thy promise fail,
  Nor let thy chariots
      long delay.