Enaid cu mae dyfroedd oerion

Enaid cu, mae dyfroedd oerion
  Yr Iorddonen ddu gerllaw;
Eto, gwêl, mae'r ddinas sanctaidd
  Ar y lan yr ochor draw.

Yno mae dy hen gyfeillion,
  Wedi dianc rhag pob clwy',
Yn dy aros er cael cyfran
  O'u dedwyddyd hyfryd hwy.

Paid ag ofni; ber yw'r fordaith,
  Ac mae'r Archoffeiriad cu
Yn dy aros yn y dyfroedd
  Er dy ddwyn i'r ddinas fry.

Clyw seraffaidd seiniau'n hedfan
  Draw o frodir Seion fryn;
Gwêl ei heuraid byrth yn agor
  Dros y niwl sy'n toi y glyn.

Ffarwel fyd, a ffarwel deithio
  Yn yr anial dyrys mwy;
Ffarwel gnawd, a ffarwel lygredd,
  Ffarwel boen a phob rhyw glwy'.

Mae'r tywyllwch yn gwasgaru,
  A'r goleuni yn cryfhau;
'Nawr 'rwy'n gweld y pur drigfannau,
  Heda, f'enaid, i'w mwynhau

Beloved soul, the cold waters
  Of the black Jordan are near;
Nevertheless, see, the holy city is
  On the shore of the other side.

There are thy old friends,
  After escaping from every disease,
In thy waiting although getting the whole
  Of their delightful happiness.

Do not fear, short is the voyage,
  And the dear High Priest is
Near thee in the waters
  In order to lead thee to the city above.

Hear seraphic sounds flying
  Yonder from the region of Zion hill;
See its golden portals open
  Across the cloud covering the vale.

Farewell world, and farewell travelling
  In the troublesome desert henceforth;
Farewell flesh, and farewell corruption,
  Farewell pain and every kind of disease.

The darkness is scattering,
  And the light is strengthening
Now I see the pure dwellings,
  Fly, my soul, to enjoy them.

Dark river of death, that is flowing
  Between the bright city and me,
Thou boundest the path I am going,
  O how shall I pass over thee?


The glory from Calvary streaming
  Will shine o'er the cold sable wave;
And the faith that is oftentimes beaming,
  May burst through the gloom of the grave.


When the hands I love dearly are wringing,
  The eyes all for me wet with tears,
The hearts that surround me still clinging,
  And I all misgivings and fears:


Ere the warmth of that love be departed
  That binds us so closely below,
Could I bear to see them broken-hearted,
  Nor feel all the sting of their woe!


O Death thou last portion of sorrow!
  The prospect of Heav'n is bright;
And fair is the dawn of its morrow,
  But stormy and dreadful thy night!