Y man y bo fy Arglwydd mawr
Yn rhoi ei nefol hedd i lawr,
  Mae holl hapusrwydd maith y byd,
  A'r nef ei hunan yno i gyd.

Nid oes na haul na sêr na lloer,
Na daear fawr a'i holl ystôr,
  Na brawd, na chyfaill, da na dyn,
  A'm boddia hebddo Ef ei Hun.

'D yw'r gair "maddeuant" imi ddim,
Nid oes mewn gweddi ronyn grym,
  A llais heb sylwedd
      ŷnt i gyd,
  Heb imi weld ei ŵyneb-pryd.

- - - - -

Y man b'ost Ti, fy Arglwydd mawr,
Yn rho'i Dy nefol hedd i lawr,
  Mae holl hapusrwydd maith y byd,
  A'r nef ei hunan yno i gyd.

Nid oes na haul, na sêr, na lloer,
Na daear fawr, a'i holl ystôr,
  Na brawd, na chyfaill, da na dyn,
  A'm boddia hebot
      Ti Dy Hun.

'Dyw'r gair "maddeuant" imi ddim,
Nid oes mewn gweddi ronyn grym,
  A llais heb sylwedd
      y'nt i gyd,
  Heb imi wel'd Dy wyneb-pryd.

Na soniwch am un pleser mawr,
Na dim gogoniant ar y llawr;
  Nid oes gogoniant o un rhyw,
  Na phleser arall ond fy Nuw.

Pan byddo'n cuddio Ei wyneb cu,
Beth wna teganau'r byd i mi?
  Rhith a breuddwydion, dïau yw
  Pob peth a welir ond fy Nuw.

Os collaf wedd Ei wyneb-pryd,
'Does dim wna iawn
    o fewn i'r byd;
  'Does dim yn bôd o'r ddae'r i'r nen
  A ddŵg y golled hon i ben.

- - - - -

Y man b'och di, fy Arglwydd mawr,
 Yn rhoi dy nefol hedd i lawr,
   Mae holl hapusrwydd maith y byd,
   A'r nef ei hunan yno i gyd.

Nid oes na haul na sêr na lloer,
Na daear fawr a'i holl ystôr,
  Na brawd, na chyfaill, da, na dyn,
  A'm boddia hebot ti dy hun.

'Dyw'r gair maddeuant imi ddim,
Nid oes mewn gweddi ronyn grym,
  A llais heb sylwedd
      ynt i gyd,
  Heb imi wel'd dy wyneb pryd.

Mi welais wedd dy wyneb gwyn
Mewn dirgel leoedd, do, cyn hyn;
  'R un syched heddyw,
      a'r un cais,
  Sydd ynof am dy hyfryd lais.

A gaf ond hyny
    wel'd dy wedd?
Ond hyny brofi o dy hedd?
  Dy heddwch sydd mor fawr ei rym,
  Mae'm nerth i hebddo'n myn'd yn ddim.

Pa bryd gwasgara'r t'wyllwch du,
Cymmylau o anobaith cry'?
  A'r boreu wawr i d'wynu'n rhad
  O bur gynteddau
      tŷ fy Nhad?

gwelir: O nac ymguddia f'Arglwydd cun

Wherever my great Lord
Puts down his heavenly peace,
  All the great happiness of the world is,
  And all of heaven itself there.

There is no sun, nor stars nor moon,
Nor great earth and all its store,
  Not brother, nor friend, good nor man,
  Which gratifies me except Him Himself.

The word "forgiveness" is nothing to me,
There is in prayer no grain of force,
  And a voice without substance
    are they all,
  Without my seeing his countenance.

- - - - -

The place Thou wast, my great Lord,
Putting Thy heavenly peace down,
  The whole vast happiness of the world,
  And heaven itself is there altogether.

There is neither sun, nor stars, nor moon,
Nor great earth, with all it's store,
  Nor brother, nor friend, beast nor man,
  That satisfies me apart
      from Thee Thyself.

The word "forgiveness" is nothing to me,
There is not a grain of force in prayer,
  And a voice without meaning
      they are altogether,
  Unless I see Thy countenance.

Do not mention a single great pleasure,
Nor any glory on earth below;
  There is no glory of any kind,
  Nor another pleasure but my God.

When he hides His dear face,
What do the trinkets of the world do to me?
  Illusion and dreams, doubtless is
  Every thing to be seen except my God.

If I lose the likeness of his countenance,
There is nothing that does any good
    within the world;
  Nothing exists from earth to the sky
  Which brings this loss to an end.

- - - - -

Wherever thou, my great Lord,
Dost put down thy heavenly peace,
  All the great happiness of the world is,
  And all of heaven itself there.

There is neither sun, nor stars nor moon,
Nor great earth and all its store,
  Not brother, nor friend, goods, nor man,
  Which gratifies me except thou thyself.

The word forgiveness is nothing to me,
There is in prayer no grain of force,
  And a voice without substance
    are they all,
  Without my seeing thy countenance.

I saw the countenance of thy fair face
In secret places, yes, before this;
  The same thirst today,
      and the same request,
  Is in me for thy lovely voice.

Shall I get but this
    to see thy countenance?
But this to experience thy peace?
  Thy tranquility is of greater force,
  My strength without it becomes nothing.

When wilt thou scatter the black darkness,
The clouds of strong hopelessness?
  And the the morning dawn to shine freely
  From the pure courts
      of my Father's house?