Fy phiol yma sydd yn llawn
My cup doth often while below,
With Marah's waters overflow:
But care and grief which here annoy,
Above shall be absorbed in joy.
The fire of love within the breast
Is here but fond desire at best:
The faintest spark in heaven it knows
With an immortal ardour glows.
The joy for which I here can hope
Is but the small tormenting drop:
A fathomless, eternal sea
Of bliss shall there encompass me.
A distant clouded glimpse is all
That Faith on earth may vision call:
But unto Faith and Hope in heaven
Are prospect and possession given.
Crumbs are on earth our richest fare:
But banquets wait the pilgrim there.
Here cold and faint the songs we raise:
But deathless there will be our praise.
Here evening shades envelope me;
All darkness shall from Zion flee;
Without a veil it will be given
God face to face to see in Heaven.