Ni thrig awelon nef

  Ni thrig awelon nef
    Mewn dyfnder pydew cas;
  Ni thrig cysuron neb
    Mewn ysbryd heb dy ras:
Pur yw dy swydd, pur fydd dy le,
Fy Nuw, o fewn i'r ddae'r a'r ne'.

O Arglwydd! tyr'd i lawr,
    Gwna drigfan it dy hun,
  Gwna deml sancteiddiol fawr
    O galon aflan dyn;
A thrig yn hon, fel Seion gynt,
Er pob rhyw dywyll stormus wynt.

Tra, Arglwydd, yn y byd,
    Rho'm golwg ar y wlad,
  Yr etifeddiaeth fry,
    Pleserau tŷ fy Nhad,
A'r gwleddoedd maith sydd yn parhau,
Lle nad oes gofid, poen, na gwae.

  The breezes of heaven shall not dwell
    In the depth of hated corruption;
  Not shall anyone's comforts dwell
    In a spirit without thy grace:
Pure is thy office, pure shall be thy place,
My God, within the earth and heaven.

  O Lord, come come,
    Make a dwelling for thyself,
  Make a great, holy temple
    Of the unclean heart of man;
And dwell in this, like Zion of old,
Despite every kind of dark, stormy wind.

  While, Lord, in the world,
    Set my sight on the land,
  The inheritance above,
    The pleasures of my Father's house,
And the vast feasts which are to endure,
Where there is no grief, pain, or woe.