Tudalen:Yr athrawes o ddifrif.pdf/135

Oddi ar Wicidestun
Neidio i'r panel llywio Neidio i'r bar chwilio
Prawfddarllenwyd y dudalen hon

Oh! what is death? A serpent still we find,
But now without a sting, for Christ his power hath broke.


Not as the worldling bids farewell,
While earthly wishes bound his view,
Whose but the Christian's tongue can tell
The feelings of that word, "adieu?"

Cling to the uncreated Friend,
To Jesus, the supremely true;
And Ah! thy welfare I commend
To him, while I pronounce "Adieu."

Farewell, and Oh! may He, whose love
Endures unchanged, tho' we rebel,
In mercy still each sin reprove,
Each gloomy, darkening cloud dispel.

Where'er thy wandering steps decline
My fervent prayers, nor only mine;
The aid of Israel's God be thine,
And in His name "Farewell."


To be forgotten, Ah! the thought
Is keen as steel, and yet it must be so;
And when the grave shall open to receive,
And hide me from thy sight, thou'lt then forget
There ever faithful heart that beat
In unison with thine. It is the abode
Of darkness and of dust, of silence and oblivion;
There I shall lay this weary aching heart
In undisturbed repose, and there find rest.

And yet, the thought
Of being forgotten, haunts me everywhere:
I would not have it so, this heart will cherish
The hope that when its throbbings are at rest,
Some recollections of the past will steal
Upon thy memory-some shortlived pleasure
That did not, could not last, but frail as I
Lies buried in my grave,