Aed sŵn efengyl bur ar lêd

Aed sŵn efengyl bur ar lêd
  Trwy barthau'r byd o'r bron;
Boed llwyddiant
    drwy deyrnasoedd Cred
  Lle mae y pregethig hon;
Fel delo miloedd eto ma's
  O'r t'w'llwch cas i fyw,
Trwy'r India draw ac Asia fras,
  I ganmol gras ein Duw.

Aed sain yr utgorn arian, mawr,
  Ymlaen trwy'r anial dir;
A doed y werin i gyda'r wawr
  I 'mofyn am y gwir:
Helaetha'th babell 'r ochr hyn,
  Estyn gortynnau i ma's;
O oes i oes, tra paro'r byd,
  Bydd canmol golud gras.

Aed mawl a gweddi'r saint i'r lan
  Fel pêr aberthau byw;
A boed serchiadau Seion wan
  Ar dan yn moli Duw:
Mewn gemwaith aur bydd hon cyn hir,
  Heb dristwch, cur, na phoen,
Yn canu am goncwest mawr a gaed,
  Trwy werthfawr waed yr Oen.

Let the sound of the pure gospel go abroad
  Through regions of the world successively;
May there be success
    through the kingdoms of Christendom
  Where this is preached;
That thousands still may come out
  From the foul darkness to live,
Throughout far India and thick Asia,
  To praise the grace of our God.

Let the sound of the great silver trumpet go,
  Forward through the desert land;
And let the folk come with the dawn
  To ask for the truth:
Spread thy tent on this side,
  Stretch cords out;
From age to age, while the world endures,
  There will be praise of the wealth of grace.

Let the praise and prayer of the saints go up
  Like sweet, living sacrifices;
And may the affections of weak Zion be
  On fire in praising God:
In gold jewellery this will be before long,
  Without sadness, stroke, nor pain,
Singing of the great conquest to be had,
  Through the precious blood of the Lamb.