Yr unwedd ag y brêf yr hŷdd,
Am yr afonydd dyfroedd,
Felly y mae fy hiraeth i,
Am danat ti, Duw'r nefoedd.
Fy enaid i sychedig yw
Am fy Nuw byw a'i gariad:
Pa bryd y dôf fi ger dy fron,
Fy Nuw a'm cyfion Ynad?
Trwm wyt, f'enaid, o'm mewn; paham
Y rhoi brudd
làm ochenaid?
Dysgwyl wrth Dduw a doi ger bron
Ei ŵyneb tirion canaid.
Trwm wyt, f'enaid, :: Trwm, f'enaid, wyt o'm mewn :: o 'mewn - - - - -
Yr unwedd ag y brêf yr hŷdd,
Am yr afonydd dyfroedd;
Felly y mae fy hiraeth i,
Am danat ti, Duw'r nefoedd.
Fy enaid i hiraethus yw,
Am weled Duw a'i gariad;
Pa bryd y dof i ger dy fron,
Fy Nuw a'm ffyddlon Geidwad?
Fy nagrau rhedant nôs a dŷdd,
A'm henaid sydd alarus;
Heb brofi melus
gariad Duw,
Ni fedraf fyw'n gysurus.
Fy enaid unwaith yn ei dŷ
Fu'n gorfoleddu'n hyfryd;
Fel rhai a fai yn cadw gwledd,
Ce's yno hedd a gwynfyd.
Paham it ochain, f'enaid bach?
Mae'n amser bellach beidio;
Disgwyl wrth Dduw,
a gweli'n llon
Ei wyneb tirion etto.
Edmwnd Prys 1544-1623
Tonau [MS 8787]: |
Just as the hart bleats,
For rivers of waters,
So is my longing,
For thee, the God of the heavens.
My soul is thirsty
For my living God and his love:
When shall I come before thee,
My God and my righteous judge?
Heavy art thou, my soul, within me; why
Dost thou give a sorrowful
leap of a groan?
Wait for God and thou wilt come before
His brilliant gentle face.
Heavy art thou, my soul, :: Heavy, my soul, art thou :: - - - - -
The same way as the hart bleats,
For the rivers of waters;
So is my longing,
For thee, God of the heavens.
My soul is longing,
To see God and his love;
When may I come before thee,
My God and my faithful Saviour?
My tears run night and day,
And my soul is lamenting;
Without experiencing the
sweet love of God,
I cannot live comfortably.
My soul once in thy house
Was rejoicing delightfully;
Like those who were keeping a feast,
I got peace and blessedness there.
Would dost thou groan, my little soul?
It is time now to stop;
Wait for God, and thou
shalt see cheerfully
His tender face again.
tr. 2010,19 Richard B Gillion
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1 As pants the hart for cooling streams,
When heated in the chase,
So longs my soul, O God, for thee,
And thy refreshing grace.
2 For thee, my God, the living God,
My thirsty soul doth pine;
O when shall I behold thy face,
Thou Majesty divine!
5 Why restless, why
cast down, my soul?
Trust God, and he'll employ
His aid for thee, and change these sighs
to thankful hymns of joy.
- - - - -
1 As pants the hart for cooling streams,
When heated in the chase,
So longs my soul, O God, for thee,
And thy refreshing grace.
2 For thee, my God, the living God,
My thirsty soul doth pine;
O when shall I behold thy face,
Thou Majesty divine!
3 Tears are my constant food, while
thus insulting foes upbraid:
"Deluded wretch!
Where's now thy God?
And where his promis'd aid?"
4 I sigh when'er my musing thoughts
those happy days present,
When I with troops of pious friends
thy temple did frequent:
When I advanc'd with songs of praise
my solemn vows to pay,
And led the joyful sacred throng,
that kept the festal day.
5 Why restless, why cast down, my soul?
Trust God, and he'll employ
His aid for thee,
and change these sighs
to thankful hymns of joy.
N Tate & N BradyA New Version of the Psalms of David in Metre 1696
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