Y'nghrog a'r felldith bren y byd

Y'nghrog a'r felldith
    bren y byd,
Yn llwch, yn chwys, yn waed i gyd,
  Gwêl Frenin y gogoniant gwiw
  Yn suddo, trengu mae Mab Duw.

Pwy, pwy i'm Ceidwad a wnaeth hyn,
Archolli corff mor lân a gwỳn;
  Ni 'nabu'i fron euogrwydd trist,
  A thwyll ni chaed yn ngenau Crist.

Myfi a wnaeth y weithred ddu
O rwygo'th gnawd, O Geidwad cu;
  Fy meiau i a ro'dd y clwyf,
  O'r drain a'r hoelion, euog wyf.

Y baich, rhy drwm i mi ei ddwyn,
'Roed arnat Ti, fy Arglwydd mwyn
  I'm gwella, dygaist yr holl gur,
  A'r felldith, i'm bendithio'n wir.

In the execution and the curse
    of the tree of the world,
All dust, sweat, blood,
  See the worthy King of glory
  Sinking, perishing is the Son of God.

Who, who to my Saviour did this,
Wounding a body so clean and white?
  His breast knew no sad guilt,
  And no deceit was found in Christ's mouth.

It is I who did the black deed
Of rending thy flesh, O dear Saviour;
  My sins gave the wound,
  Of the thorns and the nails, guilty I am.

The burden, too heavy for me to bear,
Was put on Thee, my gentle Lord
  To heal me, thou didst bear the whole stroke,
  And the curse, to bless me truly.

Extended on a cursèd tree,
Besmeared with dust,
    and sweat, and blood,
  See there, the King of Glory see!
  Sinks and expires the Son of God.

Who, who, my Saviour, this hath done?
Who could Thy sacred body wound?
  No guilt Thy spotless heart hath known,
  No guile hath in Thy lips been found.

I, I alone, have done the deed!
'Tis I Thy sacred flesh have torn;
  My sins have caused Thee, Lord, to bleed,
  Pointed the nail, and fixed the thorn.

The burden, for me to sustain
Too great, on Thee, my Lord, was laid;
  To heal me, Thou hast borne my pain;
  To bless me, Thou a curse wast made.

from the German
O Welt sieh hier dein Leben
1864 Paul Gerhardt 1607-76

Tune [LM 8888]: Spires (Geistliche Lieder 1543)