O fryniau oer y Gogledd

O fryniau oer y Gogledd,
  O draethau'r India fawr;
Lle treigla ffrydiau Affrig
  Dros dywod aur i lawr:
O lannau hen afonydd,
  O erwau'r palmwydd ir,
Mae galw maent i ymlid
  Eilunod gwael o'u tir.

Allwn ni a welodd
  Y golau oddi fry
Nacáu yr hyfryd lewyrch
  I gaethion hirnos ddu?
Cyhoedder iachawdwriaeth,
  Â gorfoleddus lef,
Nes dod o'r byd i wybod
  Am wir Eineiniog nef.

Ewch, wyntoedd, ewch â'r hanes,
  A chwithau foroedd mawr,
Nes mynd o'u fri ar gynnydd
  Hyd eithaf daear lawr;
A'r Oen a roddes drosom
  Ei waed yn aberth drud,
Yn Geidwad ac yn Frenin
  Deyrnaso dros y byd.

From the cold hills of the North,
  From the beaches of the great India;
Where Africa's streams run
  Down over golden sand:
From shores without rivers,
  From the acres of the green palms,
They are calling to chase
  Base idols from their land.

Can we who saw
  The light from above
Deny the delightful radiance
  To captives of a long black night?
Let salvation be published,
  With a jubilant cry,
Until coming from the world to know
  About the true Anointed One of heaven.

Go, ye winds, take the story,
  And ye great seas also,
Until its renown increases
  To the extremity of the earth below;
And the Lamb who gave for us
  His blood as a costly sacrifice,
As Saviour and as King
  Reigns over the world.

From Greenland's icy mountains,
  From India's coral strand;
Where Afric's sunny fountains
  Roll down their golden sand:
From many an ancient river,
  From many a palmy plain,
They call us to deliver
  Their land from error's chain.

Shall we, whose souls are lighted
  With wisdom from on high,
Shall we to those benighted
  The lamp of life deny?
Salvation! O salvation!
  The joyful sound proclaim,
Till earth's remotest nation
  Has learned Messiah's name.

Waft, waft, ye winds, His story,
  And you, ye waters, roll
Till, like a sea of glory,
  It spreads from pole to pole:
Till o'er our ransomed nature
  The Lamb for sinners slain,
Redeemer, king, creator,
  In bliss returns to reign.