Am yr hardd brydferth wlad

(Cartref y Saint)
Am yr hardd brydferth wlad,
    hyfryd gartref y saint,
  Yn awr y cyweiriaf fy nghan;
Yn ei hawyr ni theimlir
    ystormydd na haint,
  Tra y rhed tragwyddoldeb yn mlaen.

  Tra y rhed tragwyddoldeb yn mlaen;
Yn ei harwyr ni theimlir
    ystormydd na haint,
  Tra y rhed tragwyddoldeb yn mlaen.

Hyfyrd gartref y saint,
    mae llygad yn sỳn
  Ar berlau ei muriau
      a'u bri;
Ac wrth syllu 'rwy'n tybied
    nad ydyw y glyn
  Onid cul rhwng
      y ddinas a mi.

Yn ei chanol mae'r pren
    sydd o fwyd yn llawn,
  A'i hafon mor ddisglaer ei lli';
Canys poen a marwolaeth
    nid â byth i mewn,
  Na drygioni ni cheir ynddi hi.

O fy enaid, yn aros
    am danat yn awr
  Mae'r nefoedd, ei mawredd a'i bri; -
Mae yr Iesu yn Arglwydd
   trwy'r nefoedd a'r llawr,
  Ac mae'n cadw dy goron i ti.

O mor felus y fraint,
    draw yn nghartref y saint,
  Fydd byw heb un pechod na chlwy',
A chael canu i'r Iesu,
    a dyblu ein can,
  Ac heb ofni ymadael
      byth mwy.
Efel. John Roberts (Ieuan Gwyllt) 1822-77
Swn y Juwbili 1876

Tôn: Cartref y Saint

(The Home of the Saints)
About the splendid, beautiful land,
    the delightful home of the saints,
  Now I shall tune my song;
In its air is never felt,
    storms or disease,
  While eternity runs on.

  While eternity runs on;
In its air is never felt,
    storms or disease,
  While eternity runs on.

The delightful home of the saints,
    an eye is astonished
  At the pearls of its walls
      and their honour;
And while staring I suppose
    there is no vale
  Except a narrow one between
      the city and me.

In its centre is the tree
    which is full of food,
  And its river so radiant its flow;
Since pain and death
    never go inside,
  Nor are evils to be found in it.

O my soul, near
    to thee now
  Is heaven, its majesty and its renown; -
Jesus is Lord
    throughout heaven and the earth,
  And he is keeping thy crown for thee.

O how sweet the privilege,
    yonder in the home of the saints,
  Living with no sin or sickness,
And getting to sing to Jesus,
    shall double our song,
  And without fear of ever
      leaving any more.
tr. 2016 Richard B Gillion
 
cf.

Jerusalem my happy home

On Jordan's stormy banks I stand

There is a land of pure delight
The middle column is a literal translation of the Welsh. A Welsh translation is identified by the abbreviation 'cyf.' (emulation by 'efel.'), an English translation by 'tr.'

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