Trugaredd tragwyddol fy Ior,
Pwy fythol all fesur ei hyd?
Mae'n ddyfnach, mae'n lletach, na'r môr,
Mae'n fwy ei hamgylchoedd na'r byd;
Mae'n cyrhaedd y gogledd a'r de,
Y dwyrain, gorllewn, nid llai;
Trugaredd sy'n llanw pob lle
Heb eithriad, na
throad, na thrai.
Mae'n chwilio am le yn mhob man,
I weini ymgeledd i ddyn;
Hi gyfyd y truan a'r gwan
I'r lan ar ei 'nifail ei hun;
Fe'u harwain dan
gysgod y groes,
Rhydd iddynt wir foddion i fyw;
A chân yn eu genau
trwy'u hoes,
O glod am ei roddion, i Dduw.
Deuddeg Cant ag Un o Hymnau 1868
[Mesur: 8888D] |
The eternal mercy of my Lord,
Who ever can measure its length?
It is deeper, it is wider, than the sea,
It's compass is greater than the world;
It reaches the north and the south,
The east, west, no less;
Mercy which floods every place
Without exception, nor
turning, nor ebbing.
It is seeking for a place everywhere,
To serve to support man;
It raises the wretched and the weak
Up onto his own animal;
It leads them under the
shadow of the cross,
It gives them true medicine to live;
And a song in their mouths
throughout their lifespan,
Of praise for his gifts, to God.
tr. 2019 Richard B Gillion
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