Da ydyw'r Arglwydd Brenin ne'

Da ydyw'r Arglwydd, Brenin ne',

  Am bawb mae E'n gofalu;

Bob gwanwyn fe ymwêl a'n tir,

  Gwna'r borfa îr ymdyfu.



Cymylau fel afonydd mawr,

  Dyferant 'lawr fendithion,

Wrth dy orchymyn i ddyfrhâu,

  A lloni'r manau sychion.



Coroni'r ydwyt Ti fel hyn,

  Y flwyddyn â'th ddaioni;

Am hyny doed trigolion byd

  Yn unfryd i'th foliannu.

Good is the Lord, the King of heaven,

  For everyone for whom He cares;

Every spring he visits our land,

  He makes the fresh pasture grow.



Clouds like great rivers,

  Drop down blessings,

By the command to water,

  And cheer the dry places.



Crowning Thou art thus,

  The year with thy goodness;

Therefore let the world's inhabitants come

  In one mind to praise thee.

Good is the Lord, the heav'nly King,
  Who makes the earth His care;
Visits the pastures every spring,
  And bids the grass appear.
The clouds, like rivers, raised on high
  Pour out at Thy command
Their watery blessings from the sky,
  To cheer the thirsty land.


The softened ridges of the field
  Permit the corn to spring;
The valleys rich provision yield,
  And the poor labourers sing.
The little hills, on every side,
  Rejoice at falling showers;
The meadows, dressed in all their pride,
  Perfume the air with flowers.


The barren clods, refreshed with rain,
  Promise a joyful crop;
The parching grounds look green again,
  And raise the reaper's hope.
The various months Thy goodness crowns;
  How bounteous Thy ways!
The bleating flocks spread o'er the downs,
  And shepherds shout Thy praise.