Mae gwlad i'w chael o wynfyd pur

Mae gwlad i'w chael
    o wynfyd pur,
  Lle y teyrnasa'r saint;
Trag'wyddol ddydd alltudia'r nos,
  Ac nid oes yno haint.

Trag'wyddol haf sydd yn y wlad,
  Ni wywa'i blodau hi;
Rhyngom a llawn
    feddianu'r lle,
  Mae culfor angeu du.

Ei meusydd ydynt fythol wrdd,
  Dan wenau haul y nef;
Fel hyn y bu y Canaan gynt,
  Tu draw'r Jorddonen gref.

O na chaem ffydd i ymlid ffwrdd
  Ein holl amheuon ni;
Fel gallem wel'd â golwg glir
  Ei hyfryd diroedd hi.

Pe gallem megis Moses fwyn
  Gael golwg ar ei gwedd,
Yn mlaen y rhodiem
    yn ddi-fraw,
Er angeu du a'r bedd.

gwelir: Mae gwlad o wynfyd pur heb haint

There is a country to be got
    of pure blessedness,
  Where the saints will reign;
Eternal day shall exile the night,
  And there is no infection there.

Eternal summer shall be in the country,
  It's flowers shall not wither;
Between us and full
    possession of the place,
  Is the strait of black death.

Its fields are forever green,
  Under the smiles of the sun of heaven;
Thus was the Canaan of old,
  Beyond the strong Jordan.

Oh that we had faith to chase away
  All our doubts;
Thus would we see with a clear view
  Of its delightful lands.

If we could, like dear Moses,
  Get to look upon its countenance,
Forward we would
    walk fearlessly,
  Despite black death and the grave.

There is a land
    of pure delight,
  Where saints immortal reign;
Infinite day excludes the night,
  And pleasures banish pain.

There everlasting spring abides,
  And never withering flowers;
Death, like a narrow
    sea, divides
  This heavenly land from ours.

Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood
  Stand dressed in living green;
So to the Jews old Canaan stood,
  While Jordan rolled between.

O could we make our doubts remove,
  Those gloomy doubts that rise;
To see the Canaan that we love,
  With unbeclouded eyes.

Could we but climb where Moses stood,
  And view the landscape o'er,
Not Jordan's stream,
    nor death's cold flood,
  Should fright us from the shore.