Wrth gofio'r Jerusalem fry,
  Y ddinas, preswylfa fy Nuw,
Y saint a'r angelion y sy'
  Yn canu caniadau bob rhyw;
Ac yno mae 'nhrysor i gyd,
  'Nghyfeillion a'm brodyr o'r bron,
Fy nghalon sy'n brefu o hyd
  Am fyned yn fuan i hon.

'Ngelynion yn greulon y sydd,
  Hwy rwygent fy enaid pe caen,
'Rwy'n profi bob munud o'r dydd,
  Nerth saethau
      gwenwynllyd y rhain;
Am fod fy ngofidiau mor fawr,
  A'r llewod uffernol fath lu;
Pe cawn fy nymuniad yn awr,
  Trwy angau dihangwn i fry.

Fy enaid sychedig y sydd,
  Wrth deithio dros fryniau mor faith
Yn dysgwyl yn dawel bob dydd
  Gyfarfod a diwedd fy nhaith;
Fel darfo fy ngofid a'm gwae,
  Fy nhrallod, fy mlinder a'm poen,
A dechreu 'ngorfoledd di-drai,
  Caniadau tragwyddol yr Oen.

Er gofid a blinder o hyd,
  A rhwystrau bob
      munud o'r awr,
Er gelynion echryslon i gyd,
  Sy'n curo fy yspryd i lawr;
Fy enaid lluddedig a ddaw,
  'Trwy demest, trwy donnau,
      trwy dân,
Er gwaetha pob dychryn a braw,
  I'm cartre' tragwyddol yn lân.

Mi gara f'anwylyd o hyd,
  Fy Mhrynwr, fy Mhriod, a'm Pen,
O'r diwedd fe sugnodd fy mryd,
  O'r ddaear i'r nefoedd uwch ben,
Gwynfyd a fai'n gorwedd yn awr,
  Yn llonydd yn ngwaelod fy medd,
Mi godwn ar doriad y wawr,
  Yn fuan i weled ei wedd.

gwelir: Rwy'n tynnu tuag ochor y dŵr

While remembering the Jerusalem above,
  The city, the residence of my God,
The saints and the angels are
  Singing songs of every kind;
And there is all my treasure,
  My friends and my brothers completely
My heart is bleating always
  To go there soon.

My enemies cruel are,
  They would tear my soul if they could,
I am experiencing every minute of the day,
  The strength of the poisonous
      arrows of those;
Since my griefs are so great,
  And the hellish lion are such a force;
If I could have my wish now,
  Through death I would escape above.

My thirsty soul is,
  While travelling over hills so vast,
Expecting quietly every day
  To meet with my journey's end;
Thus shall vanish my grief and my woe,
  My trouble, my weariness and my pain,
And unebbing jubilation begin,
  The eternal songs of the Lamb.

Despite the constant grief and weariness,
  And frustrations every
      minute of the hour,
Despite all the heinous enemies
  That are beating my spirit down;
My weary soul shall come,
  Through tempest, through waves,
      through fire,
Despite every fear and terror,
  To my eternal home safely.

I love my beloved always,
  My redeemer, my spouse, and my head,
At last he drew my attention,
  From the earth to heaven above,
Blessed would be lying now,
  Calmly in the bottom of my grave,
I would rise at the break of the dawn,
  Soon to see his countenance.

When I think, O Salem, of thee,
  The city, the home of my God,
The saints and the angels so free,
  Who will sing the song of the blood,
My treasures, my all, and my God.
  My friends and my wealth which are there,
Oh, sadness and sorrow will flood
  When I think of thy portals fair.











How tedious and tasteless the hours,
  When Sion I'm pressing to see;
The woodland, the fields, and the flow'rs
  Have nothing enticing to me;
As my pain, my sorrow shall cease,
  And I shall not languish and pine,
Thy wonders and kindness I'll trace,
  And shall sing thy glory divine.