Bryd ca'i wel'd y tir dymunol,
  Hyfryd Baradwysaidd wlad;
Lle mae brodyr i mi filiwn,
  Lle mae Mhriod a fy Nhad;
Lle cai orphwys o fy llafur,
  A gwellhau fy nghlwyfau yn rhad,
A chael gwledd dragwyddol berffaith,
  Ar ben fy nhaith
      yn nhŷ fy Nhad.

Manna nefol sy arnaf eisieu,
  Dw'r rhedegog gloyw byw,
Sydd yn tarddu o tan riniog,
  Teml sanctaidd bur fy Nuw;
Golchi'r aflan, cànu'r Ethiop,
  Gwneyd yr euog brwnt yn lân,
Ti gai'r clod
    ryw fyrdd o oesoedd,
  'Nol i'r ddaear fyn'd yn dân. 

Y mae nefoedd yn ei gwmni,
  Y mae bywyd yn ei wedd;
Ag sy'n gwneuthur angeu'n gyfaill,
  Ag sy'n peri
      concro'r bedd:
Rho'th gyfeillach Iesu addfwyn,
  Dyna 'wy'n ei geisio i gyd;
Ac mi fyddaf foddlon ddiddig,
  I oll a gwrddwyf yn y byd.

Y mae meddwl am ei haeddiant,
  Meddwl am ei gariad pur;
Fel rhyw ffynnon o lawenydd,
  Llawn o ddyfroedd gloyw clir;
Fe ei hunan yw'm gogoniant,
  Fe yw'm hymffrost a fy ngrym,
Enw pawb o dan yr wybren,
  Ond ei hunan elo'n ddim.

gwelir:
  Bryd fy Nhad câf yfed dyfroedd?
  Capten mawr ein hiachawdwriaeth
  Manna nefol sy arnaf eisiau
  O pa bryd câf wel'd dy wyneb?
  Ofer i mi wel'd y ddaear
  Pa gyfnewidiadau bynag
  Wyneb siriol fy anwylyd

When will I get to see the desired land?
  A delightful Paradisiacal country;
Where there are a million brothers to me,
  Where are my Spouse and my Father;
Where I may get rest from my labour,
  And healing of my wounds freely,
And get a perfect, eternal feast,
  At the end of my journey
      in my Father's house.

I have a need for heavenly manna,
  Bright, living, running water,
Which issues from under the threshold
  Of the pure, holy temple of my God;
To wash the unclean, bleach the Ethiopian,
  Make the dirty, guilty one clean,
Thou shalt get the acclaim
    for some myriad of ages,
  After the earth goes to fire.

There are heavens in his company,
  There is life in his countenance;
Which also makes death a friend,
  And which causes
      the conquering of the grave:
Grant thy friendship, dear Jesus,
  That is all that I am seeking;
And I shall be content, genial
  To all I meet in the world.

There is thought about his merit,
  Thought about his pure love;
Like some fount of joy,
  Full of bright, clear waters;
He himself is my glory,
  He is my boast and my strength
The name of everyone under the sky,
  But his own, goes to nothing.