Clywa'i Frenin y brenhinoedd

Clywa'i Frenin y brenhinoedd
  Etto'n anfon gwawdd i ma's;
Yn para galw pechaduriaid
  I'r wledd o waredigol ras:
Mae e'n derbyn yr afradlon,
  A'r tylodion gwaelaf sy',
A gorfoledd annrhaethadwy,
  Wrth eu dygid i'w ei dŷ.

Mae e'n llanw 'rhai newynog
  A danteithion fyrddau llawn;
Nid os darfod ar eu gwleddoedd,
  O'r boreu-ddydd hyd brydnhawn;
Gwin i lonni'r gwa'ddedigion,
  Sydd yn gysson ar ei gwrdd;
Ar ei gariad maent yn meddwi,
  Ac yn ffaelu myned ffwrdd.

Rhoddi llygaid mae i'r deillion,
  Traed i'r cloffion 'lammu'n glau:
I Manasse a Magdalen
  Nid yw'n coffa'u ffiaidd fai.
Gwanhangleifion dewch yn eon
  At y Meddyg 'gael iachad,
Mae trag'wyddol iachawdwriaeth
  Yn yr afon fawr o'i wa'd.

Dewch y llwythog a'r blinderog,
  Sydd yn griddfan tan eu gwae,
At y Meddyg sydd yn rhwymo
  Briwiau'r archolledig rai:
Mae 'mysgaroedd o drugaredd
  Yn ein Harglwydd mawr o hyd,
Etto'n maddeu i bechaduriaid
  Mwya' welwyd yn y byd.

Rhai ar ddarfod byth am danynt,
  Wrthynt mae e'n trugarhau
Am ei ffiaidd dduon feiau;
  Pwy a'i clywodd e'n coffau?
Mae e'n cuddio gwarth eu northder
  A'i gyfiawnder mawr dilyth,
Ac yn gwneud i'w waredigion
  Roi'r gogoniant iddo byth.

gwelir: Beth yw'r udgorn glywa'i'n seinio?

I hear the King of kings
  Still sending out an invitation;
Continuing to call sinners
  To the feast of delivering grace:
He is receiving the prodigal,
  And the poor ones who are the lowest,
With inexpressible jubilation,
  As they are brought to his house.

He is filling the hungry ones
  With tables full of delicacies;
There is no end to their feasts,
  From morning until evening;
Wine to cheer the guests,
  Is constantly on his table;
On his love they are getting inebriated,
  And failing to go away.

Giving eyes he is to the blind,
  Feet to the lame to leap swiftly:
To Manasseh and Magdalen
  He remembers not their detestable fault.
Lepers, come ye boldly
  To the Physician to get healed,
There is everlasting salvation
  In the great river of his blood.

Come ye burdened and exhausted,
  Who are groaning under their woe,
To the Physician who is binding
  The bruises of the wounded ones:
There are bowels of mercy
  In our great Lord always,
Still forgiving the greatest
  Sinners ever seen in the world.

Those about to vanish forever,
  To them he is showing mercy
About their detestable, black faults;
  Who has heard him remembering?
He is covering the shame of their nakedness
  With his great, unfailing righteousness,
And making the delivered ones
  Giving glory to him forever.