Mae heddyw felys wledd

Mae heddyw felys wledd,
Mewn prawf o hyfryd hedd,
    trwy Grist ai gur,
'Dyw hyn ond codiad gwawr,
Caiff plant y
      cystudd mawr,
Llawn wleddoedd uwch y llawr,
    mewn mwyniant pur.

Ar aur-delynau'r nef,
Hwy a'i moliannent Ef,
    heb ball, heb boen;
Yr anthem felys faith,
Fydd am achubol daith,
A phur rinweddol waith,
    yr addfwyn Oen.

Pan ddelo'r saint y'nghyd,
Uwch poen a maglau'r byd,
    yn groyw eu cān;
Caniadau am ei loes,
A rhinwedd llawn ei groes,
Fydd hyd dragwyddol oes,
    yn Salem lān.

I'r nefol byrth ni ddaw,
Nac ofn, na phoen na braw,
    na phechod cas:
Pwy na hiraetha'n wir,
Am rodio'r sanctaidd dir,
Ac yfed dyfroedd clir,
    Ei ryfedd ras.

gwelir:
  Ar aur delynau'r nef
  Pan ddelo'r saint yn nghyd

Today there is a sweet feast,
In experience of delightful peace,
    through Christ and his wound,
This is only the rising of dawn,
The children of the great
      tribulation shall get,
Full feasts above the earth,
    in pure enjoyment.

On the golden harps of heaven,
They shall praise Him,
    without failure, without pain;
The sweet, vast anthem,
Shall be about the saving journey,
And the pure, virtuous work,
    of the gentle Lamb.

When the saints come together,
Above the pain and snares of the world,
    with their clear song;
Songs about his anguish,
And the full virtue of his cross,
Shall be as long as an eternal age,
    in holy Salem.

To the heavenly portals we shall come,
Nor fearing either pain, or terror,
    or hated sin:
Who shall not truly long,
To walk the sacred land,
And drink the clear water,
    of His wonderful grace.