Cysegrwn flaenffrwyth
    dyddiau'n hoes
I garu'r Hwn fu ar y groes;
  Mae mwy o bleser yn ei waith
  Na dim a fedd y ddaear faith.

Gael bod yn fore dan yr iau
Sydd ganmil gwell
    na phleser gau;
  Mae ffyrdd doethineb oll i gyd
  Yn gysur ac yn hedd o hyd.

Y plant a wasanaethont Grist
Cānt ddianc byth rhag uffern drist;
  Mae myrdd o ie'nctyd yn y nef
  Yn berlau yn Ei goron Ef.

O boed im dreulio yn ddi-goll
O dan iau Crist fy mebyd oll;
  Mae'r Hwn a'm prynodd ar y groes
  Yn deilwng o bob awr o'm hoes.

O dewch, ieuenctyd, mae'n llawn bryd,
I maes o ddinas distryw 'nghyd;
  Mae Iesu'n galw arnoch, Dewch,
  Ac yn ei waed maddeuant cewch.

Cewch wisgo'n hardd,
    cewch wledda'n rhad,
Ar fanna pur y nefol wlad;
  Cewch air ac Ysbryd
      Crist o hyd,
  I'ch arwain trwy yr anial fyd.

Cysegrwn ninnau yn ddigoll
I Grist ein nerth a'n bywyd oll;
  Mae'r Hwn a'n prynodd ar y groes
  Yn deilwng o bob awr o'n hoes.

                - - - - -
                1,2,(3),4.

Cysegrwn weddill
    ddyddiau'n hoes,
I garu'r hwn fu ar y groes;
  Mae mwy o bleser yn ei waith,
  Na dim a fedd y ddaear faith.

Cael bod yn foreu dan yr iau,
Sy'n ganmil gwell
    na phleser gau;
  Mae ffyrdd doethineb oll i gyd,
  Yn gysur ac yn hedd o hyd.

Y plant a wasanaethont Grist,
Cant ddianc byth rhag uffern drist:
  Mae myrdd o ie'nctyd yn y nef,
  Yn berlau yn ei goron ef.

O na threuliaswn yn ddigoll,
O dan iau Crist fy mebyd oll;
  Mae'r hwn a'm prynodd ar y groes,
  Yn deilwng o bob awr o'm hoes.

gwelir: O dewch ieuengctyd mae'n llawn bryd

Let us sanctify the first-fruits
   of the days of our age
To love Him who died on the cross;
  There is more pleasure in his work
  Than any which belongs to the wide earth.

To get to be in the morning under the yoke
Is a hundred thousand times better
    than empty pleasure;
  The ways of wisdom are altogether
  Comfort and peace always.

The children who have served Christ
Will get to escape forever from sad hell;
  There are myriads of young in heaven
  As pearls in His crown.

O may I spend without loss
Under the yoke of Christ all my childhood;
  He who redeemed me on the cross is
  Worthy of every hour of my age.

O come, ye young, it is high time,
Out of the city of destruction together;
  Jesus is calling upon you, Come ye,
  And in his blood ye shall get forgiveness.

Ye may get beautiful clothing,
    ye may get to feast freely,
On the pure manna of the heavenly land;
  Ye may get the word and the Spirit
      of Christ always,
  To lead you through the desert world.

Let us consecrate ourselves without loss
To Christ our strength and all our life;
  He who redeemed us on the cross is
  Worthy of every hour of our age.

                - - - - -
 

Let us consecrate the rest
    of the days of our age,
To love him who was on the cross;
  There is more pleasure in his work,
  Than anything the vast earth possesses.

To get to be in the morning under the yoke,
Is a hundred thousand times better
    than empty pleasure;
  All the ways of wisdom are altogether,
  Comfort and peace always.

The children who have served Christ,
Will get to escape forever from sad hell:
  There are myriads of young in heaven,
  As pearls in his crown.

O that I might spend unfailingly,
Under the yoke of Christ all my childhood;
  He who redeemed me on the cross,
  Is worthy of every hour of my age.

Now let the firstfruits
    of our days
Be sacred to the Saviour's praise;
  The pleasure of His work is more
  Than earth can bring from all its store.

Early beneath His yoke to be
Is better far
    than vanity;
  The paths of wisdom yield each day
  The peace that passeth not away.






Oh! that my youth were wholly spent
Beneath His yoke in calm content:
  For He who bought me on the tree
  Owns every hour of life from me.

              - - - - -
 

May we devote
    our youthful days
To love our Lord, His work and ways;
  For in the service of our King
  Is greater joy than earth can bring.

In youth his easy yoke to bear
Is bliss indeed
    beyond compare;
  The ways of wisdom never cease
  To lead the soul in perfect peace.






Oh that I bore, for His dear sake,
His yoke each day without a break;
  For He that bought me on the tree
  Should be the All in all to me.

               - - - - -

Early to bear the yoke excels
By far the joy in sin that dwells;
  The paths of wisdom still are found
  In peace and solace to abound.

The young who serve Him here below
The wrath to come shall never know;
  Of such in heaven are pearls that shine
  Unnumbered in the crown divine.