Tyr'd nefol G'lomen oddi fry

Tyr'd, nefol G'lomen, oddi fry,
A ch'od ni ar d'adenydd cu;
  Esgyn a dwg ni fynu'n grwn,
  Uwchlaw holl bethau'r bywyd hwn.

Tu hwnt i'r wybren isaf hon,
Lle try tragwyddol oesau llon,
  Y mae pleserau pur di-lŷth,
  A ffrwythau i wledda'r enaid byth.

O! am gael golwg hoff o'r wlad,
A gorsedd ein tragwyddol Dad,
  Lle'r eiste'n Prynwr mawr ei fri,
  Mewn corph cyffelyb i'n cyrph ni.

Y saint o'i gylch addoli maen',
A holl lu'r nef
    yn plygu o'i flaen;
  Duw sy'n llewyrchu maes trwy'r dyn
  Ei bur ogoniant ar bob un.

O! 'r mawr ddigrifwch yno a gair,
Pan ganant eu telynau aur;
  Ac eistedd ar bob nefol fryn,
  A dadgan gwaith
      eu Duw cyn hyn.

Pa bryd daw'r dydd, fy anwyl Dduw,
Cāf finnau esgyn yno i fyw,
  Sefyll a phlygu yn eu plith,
  wel'd, moli, a charu, f'Arglwydd byth?

[Pa bryd, fy Iesu, daw y dydd,
 A'r hyfryd awr i'm gwneud yn rhyd,
   Pan gaffwyf ado'r tŷ o glai
   I drigo 'mhlith y cyfryw rai?]

gwelir: O Arglwydd dena'm serch a'm bryd

Come, heavenly Dove, from above,
And lift us on thy dear wings;
  Ascend and take us up roundly,
  Above all the things of this life.

Beyond this low sky,
Where the cheerful, eternal ages turn,
  There are pure, unfailing treasures,
  And fruits to feast the soul forever.

Oh to get a lovely sight of the land,
And the throne of our eternal Father,
  Where sits our Redeemer of great renown,
  In a body similar to our body!

The saints around him adoring they are,
And the whole host of heaven
    bowing before him,
God who is shining out through man
  His pure glory on every one.

Oh the great pleasure got there,
When they play their golden harps;
  And sit on every heavenly hill,
  And utter the work
      of their God before this!

When shall come the day, my beloved God,
That I too shall get to ascend there to live,
  To stand and bow in their midst,
  To see, praise, and love, my Lord forever?

[When, my Jesus, shall come the day,
 And the delightful hour to make me free,
   When I shall leave the house of clay
   To dwell amongst such ones?]

Descend from Heav'n, immortal Dove,
  Stoop down and take us on Thy wings,
And mount and bear us far above
  The reach of these inferior things:

Beyond, beyond this lower sky,
  Up where eternal ages roll;
Where solid pleasures never die,
  And fruits immortal feast the soul.

O for a sight, a pleasing sight
  Of our almighty Father's throne!
There sits our Saviour crowned with light,
  Clothed in a body like our own.

Adoring saints around Him stand,
  And thrones and powers
      before Him fall;
The God shines gracious through the man,
  And sheds sweet glories on them all.

O what amazing joys they feel
  While to their golden harps they sing,
And sit on every heav'nly hill,
  And spread the triumphs
      of their king!

When shall the day, dear Lord, appear,
  That I shall mount to dwell above,
And stand and bow amongst them there,
  And view Thy face, and sing, and love?

[When shall the day, dear Lord, appear,
   That I shall mount to dwell above,
 And stand and bow amongst them there,
   And view Thy face, and sing, and love?]