Tyr'd Yspryd Glân Colommen ne'

Tyr'd Yspryd Glân, Colommen ne',
  A holl bwerau'r bywyd;
Ac ennyn fflam o'th gariad clau,
  Yn ein calonnau ni.

Gwel yma'n serch a'n hymgais, mae
  Ar ol teganau bydol;
Methu mae'n henaid dyfu o hyd,
  I gyrraedd gwynfyd nefol.

Ein cân sy'n ffurfiol ac yn wan,
  Ymgodi i'r lan ni's gallwn;
Oer yn ein genau yw mawl ein Duw,
  A marwaidd yw'n defosiwn.

O Arglwydd cu, a gawn ni fod
  Byth mewn fath nychdod ene'd?
Mor brin ein cariad attat ti,
  A'th eiddo i ni helaethed.

Tyr'd Yspryd Glân, Colommen ne',
  A'th holl bwerau bywiog;
Tann gariad Crist ar lled o'n mewn,
  Ni 'ddolw'n Dduw'n fwy gwresog.

Come, Holy Spirit, Dove of heaven;
  With all the powers of life;
And kindle a flame of thy true love,
  In our hearts.

See here our desire and our effort, it is
  After worldly trinkets;
Failing is our soul still to grow,
  To reach heavenly blessedness.

Our song is formal and weak,
  To rise up we are not able;
Cold in our mouth is the praise of our God,
  And deathly is our devotion.

O dear Lord, shall we be
  Forever in this kind of sickness of soul?
How scarce is our love toward thee
  And thine to us so generous.

Come, Holy spirit, Dove of heaven,
  With all thy lively powers;
Ignite the love of God abroad within un,
  We shall worship our God more warmly.

Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove,
  With all Thy quickening powers;
Kindle a flame of sacred love
  In these cold hearts of ours.

Look how we grovel here below,
  Fond of these trifling toys;
Our souls can neither fly nor go
  To reach eternal joys.

In vain we tune our formal songs,
  In vain we strive to rise;
Hosannas languish on our tongues,
  And our devotion dies.

Dear Lord, and shall we ever live
  At this poor dying rate?
Our love so faint, so cold to Thee,
  And Thine to us so great?

Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove,
  With all Thy quickening powers;
Come, shed abroad the Saviour's love
  And that shall kindle ours.