Pe byddai'r moroedd mawrion

Pe byddai'r moroedd mawrion
  Droi yn inc o'r dua'i liw,
A'r tywod dirifedi
  I gyd yn ddynion byw,
A'r byd i gyd yn bapur,
  Bob un a'i ysgrifbin,
Ni allent gynnwys cariad
  Yr Oen fu ar y bryn.

Pe byddai sêr y nefoedd
  I gyd yn fydoedd maith
A'r rhain yn llawn angylion
  A dynion o bob iaith,
Pob un â'i euraid delyn
  Yn canu'r nefol dôn,
Ni allent ganu digon
  Am haeddiant gwaed yr Oen.

Pe byddai pob creadur
  A greaodd Duw ar lawr,
Holl 'hediaid y ffurfafen,
  A physg y moreoedd mawr,
Dyffrynnoedd a mynyddoedd,
  Y coedydd a'u holl ddail,
Byth, byth ni chanent ddigon
  O glod i Adda'r Ail.

If the great seas were to
  Turn to ink of the blackest colour,
And the innumerable sand
  All to living men,
And all the world to paper,
  Every one with his writing pen,
They could not contain the love
  Of the Lamb who was on the hill.

If the stars of heaven were
  All vasts worlds
And those full of angels
  And men of every language,
Every one with his golden harp
  Playing the heavenly tune,
They could not sing sufficiently
  About the merit of the blood of the Lamb.

If every creature whom
  God created on earth below,
All the flying host of the firmament,
  And fish of the great seas,
Valleys and mountains,
  The trees and all their leaves,
Never, ever, would they sing sufficiently
  Of praise to the Second Adam.