Creawdwr Ysbryd tyrd ymwêl

Creawdwr Ysbryd, tyrd, ymwêl,
Â'r clonnau nodwyd gynt â'th sêl;
  Cyflenwa'n holl fynwesau ni
  Â nefol ras dy gariad di.

Diddanydd dyn y'th elwir di,
Y Dwyfol ddawn o uchel fri;
  Ti, ffynnon fywiol, nefol dân,
  Ysbrydol ennaint i'r rhai glân.

Ti, seithryw roddi i ddynol-ryw,
Ti, gadarn fys deheulaw Duw
  Tydi, addewid wir y Tad,
  Yn coethi'n llais â'th ddoniau rhad.

Goleua'n pwyll â'th olau llon,
A thywallt gariad pur i'r fron;
  Gwendidau'n corff O cymorth di
  Â nerth gawstadol oddi fry.
  
Ein gelyn ymlid di ar frys,
A dyro heddwch yn ddi-lys;
  O dan dy ddoeth arweiniad hy
  Dihangwn rhag pob niwed sy.

Rho wobrwy gwir lawenydd nef,
Rho amal ddawn
    dy rinwedd gref;
  Cadwynau cynnen gas rhyddha,
  Cyfamod heddwch cadarnha.

I'r Tad a'r Mab y byddo clod,
A'r Ysbryd Sanctidd, Ddwyfol Fod;
  Anfoner arnom, fawr a mân,
  Anhraethol ddawn yr Y|sbryd Glân.

Creator Spirit, come, visit,
The hearts once marked with thy seal;
  Fill all our breasts
  With the heavenly grace of thy love.

The Comforter of man thou art called,
The divine Gift of high renown;
  Thou, lively fount, heavenly fire,
  Spiritual anointing to the holy ones.

Thou, sevenfold gift to human-kind,
Thou, strong finger of God's right hand,
  Thou, true promise of the Father,
  Refining our voice with thy free gifts.

Enlighten our mind with thy cheerful light,
And pour pure love into the breast;
  Help thou the weaknesses of our body
  With constant strength from above.

Our enemy chase thou away hurriedly,
And grant thy peace unfailingly;
  Under thy confident, wise guidance
  We shall escape from every harm there is.

Give the reward of the true joy of heaven,
Give the manifold gift
    of thy strong virtue;
  The chains of detestable conflict loosen,
  The covenant of peace confirm.

The to Father and the Son be praise,
And the Sacred Spirit, a Divine Being;
  Be sent upon us, great and small,
  The unutterable gift of the Holy Spirit.

Come, Holy Ghost, Creator, come
  From Thy bright heav'nly throne;
Come, take possession of our souls,
  And make them all Thine own.

Thou who art called the Paraclete,
  Best gift of God above,
The living spring, the living fire,
  Sweet unction and true love.

Thou who art sevenfold in Thy grace,
  Finger of God's right hand;
His promise, teaching little ones
  To speak and understand.

O guide our minds with Thy blest light,
  With love our hearts inflame;
And with Thy strength, which ne'er decays,
  Confirm our mortal frame.

Far from us drive our deadly foe;
  True peace unto us bring;
And through all perils lead us safe
  Beneath Thy sacred wing.

Through Thee may we the Father know,
  Through Thee
      th'eternal Son,
And Thee the Spirit of them both,
  Thrice-blessèd Three in One.

All glory to the Father be,
  With His co-equal Son:
The same to Thee, great Paraclete,
  While endless ages run.

from the Latin
Veni creator Spiritus

Rabanus Maurus c.776-856