Llais siriol fy Anwylyd sy'

Llais siriol fy Anwylyd sy'
Yn seinio ar y bryniau fry;
  Dros foroedd blin mynyddau o blaau
  Fe hed i'm gwared i o'm gwae.

Trwy'r llen o gnawd y gwelaf ef
Yn edrych arna' in' fwyn o'r nef;
  Ac yn y 'fengyl ddidglair ddrych
  Mae'n dangos gwedd ei wyneb gwych.

Fy nghaìon mae e'n ddirgel ddwyn,
A'i degwch mawr
    a'i dafod mwyn;
  Cyfod, medd f'Arglwydd, brysia o hyd,
  Gad yna bant deganau'r byd.

Y gaua' Iuddewig heibio'r aeth,
Y niwl a ffodd, a'r gwanwyn ddaeth;
  Mae'r durtur nefol
      ar bob twyn,
  Newyddion da'r efengyî fwyn.

Mae'r wir winwydden hithau'n llawn
O flodau ac o nefol rawn;
  Wele ni ddewn i brofi'r gwin,
  I lonni ein heneidiau blin.

A phan lefaro'r Iesu ein ffrynd
Fy nghariad cyfod, brysia i fyn'd;
  Dymunei'n henaid ffoi i'w gôl,
  A gado'r byd i gyd ar ol.

The cheerful voice of my Beloved is
Sounding on the hills above;
  Over grievous seas, mountains of plagues,
  He flies to deliver me from my woe.

Through the curtain of flesh I see him
Looking upon me tenderly from heaven;
  And in the shining mirror of the gospel
  He is showing his brilliant countenance.

My heart he secretly steals,
With his great fairness
    and his gentle tongue;
  Arise, says my Lord, hurry still,
  Leave there the worlds hollow trinkets.

The Jewish winder has past,
The fog has fled, and the spring has come;
  The heavenly turtledove
      is on every hill,
  The good news of the dear gospel.

The true vine itself is full
Of flowers and of heavenly grapes;
  See, let us come to taste the wine,
  To cheer our weary souls.

And whenever Jesus our Friend should call
My soul arise, hasten to so;
  Our soul desires to flee to his bosom,
  And leave all the world behind.

The voice of my beloved sounds
Over the rocks and rising grounds,
  O'er hills of guilt, and seas of grief,
  He leaps, he flies to my relief.

Now thro' the veil of flesh I see
With eyes of love he looks at me;
  Now in the gospel's clearest glass
  He shews the beauties of his face.

Gently he draws my heart along
Both with his beauties
    and his tongue;
  "Rise," saith my Lord, "make haste away;
  "No mortal joys are worth thy stay.

"The Jewish wintery state is gone,
"The mists are fled, the spring comes on,
  "The sacred turtle-dove
      we hear
  "Proclaim the new, the joyful year.

"Th' immortal vine of heavenly root
"Blossoms and buds, and gives her fruit:"
  Lo, we are come to taste the wine;
  Our souls rejoice and bless the vine.

And when we hear our Jesus say,
"Rise up, my love, make haste away!"
  Our hearts would fain out-fly the wind,
  And leave all earthly loves behind.