Ymsym(m)ud mewn llwybrau dirgelaidd

Ymsymud mewn llwybrau dirgelaidd,
  I wneuthur ei wyrthiau mae Duw:
Ei draed yn yr eigion a esyd,
  A'r gyrwynt ei gerbyd Ef yw;
Yn mhell mewn dyfnderoedd annhraethol
  O ryfedd fedrusrwydd di-flin,
Trysora'i amcanion ardderchog,
  A gwna ei ewyllys ei Hun.

Chwi seintiau, cymerwch galondid,
  Cymylau a ofnwch yn awr
Ynt lawn trugareddau,
    a thorant
  Yn helaeth fendithion i lawr:
Na fernwch yr Ion wrth eich synwyr,
  Hyderwch o hyd am ei hedd,
Tu cefn i bob gwgus ragluniaeth
  Mae gwenau i'w gwel'd ar ei wedd.

Yn fuan addfeda'i ddybenion,
  Gan agor yn gyson bob dydd,
Yn chwerw gall fod y blaguryn,
  Ond peraidd y blodyn a fydd:
Un gibddall yw ffol anghrediniaeth,
  Ei waith nis amgyffred yn wir;
Deonglydd ein Duw yw ei Hunan -
  Gwna'n eglur
      bob gweithred cyn hir.

gwelir:
  Dyfnderoedd anchwiliadwy yw
  Trwy ddirgel ffyrdd mae'r Argwydd/uchel Ior

Moving in secret paths,
  To perform his miracles is God:
His feet in the ocean he places,
  And the driving wind His chariot is;
Far within inexpressible depths
  of wonderful, inexhaustable ability,
He treasures his excellent purposes,
  And does His own will.

Ye saints, take courage,
  The clouds ye now fear
They are full of mercies,
    and they will break
 Into generous blessings down:
Judge ye not the Lord by your sense,
  Boast ye always about his peace,
Behind every frowning providence
  There are smiles to be seen on his face.

Soon his purposes will ripen,
  Opening constantly every day,
Bitter may be the shoot,
  But sweet the flower shall be:
Short-sighted is foolish unbelief,
  His work it will not grasp truly;
The interpreter of our God is Himself -
  He will make clear
      every action before long.

God moves in a mysterious way
  His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
  And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
  Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
  And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
  The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy
    and shall break
  In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
  But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
  He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
  Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
  But sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err
  And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
  And He will
      make it plain.