Pam yr ŵylwn am gyfeillion?

Pam yr ŵylwn am gyfeillion
  Aeth o'n blaen
      trwy angau dû?
Nid yw hwn ond cenad Iesu,
  Ddaeth i'w cyrchu ato fry.
Beddau'r seintiau a gysegrodd
  Pan orweddodd yn y pridd;
Lle bu'r Pen bydd yr aelodau -
  Dyna'n cartref oll ryw ddydd.

Cododd Iesu mawr i fywyd,
  Codi hefyd gaiff ei saint;
Pan ddel bore
    mawr y cyfri',
  Caiff y rhei'ny ryfedd fraint:
Pan ddaw oesoedd byd i fyny,
  Pan fo'r meirw, fach a mawr,
'N codi'n llu wrth sŵn yr udgorn,
  Gwelir Seion fel y wawr.

Why do we weep for friends
  Who have gone ahead of us
      through black death?
This is only the emissary of Jesus,
  Who came to take him up to him above.
The graves of the saints he consecrated
  When he lay in the soil;
Where the Head was shall the member be -
  That is the home of us all some day.

Great Jesus arose to life,
  Rise also shall his saints;
When the great morning of
      the accounting comes,
  They shall get a wonderful privilege:
When the ages of the world come up,
  When the dead, small and great, be
Rising as a host at the trumpet's sound,
  Zion is to be seen like the dawn.

Why do we mourn departing friends,
  Or shake at death's alarms?
'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends
  To call them to His arms.

The graves of all His saints He blessed,
  And softened every bed;
Where should the dying members rest,
  But with the dying Head?

Thence He arose, ascending high,
  And showed our feet the way;
Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly,
  At the great rising day.

Then let the last loud trumpet sound,
  And bid our kindred rise;
Awake, ye nations under ground;
  Ye saints, ascend the skies.