Tyred Ysbryd Glân sancteiddiol

Tyred, Ysbryd Glân sancteiddiol!
  Dyro'r nefol wlith i lawr,
Fel bo'r egin gwan ar gynydd,
  Wedi'r holl ystormydd mawr;
    Pam y gwywa
  Egin grawn gan faint y gwres?

Chwythed y deheuwynt nefol,
  Deued yr awelon pur,
I wasgaru peraroglau
  Seion dros ar anial dir:
    Awel falmaidd
  Pen Calfaria lanwo'r wlad.

Come, sacred Holy Spirit!
  Send the heavenly dew down,
That the weak shoots be growing,
  After all the great storms;
    Why shall the shoots of grain
  Wilt in so much heat?

Let the heaven south winds blow,
  Let the pure breezes come,
To scatter the sweet aromas
  Of Zion over the desert land:
    May the breezes of the palms of
  Calvary's summit be cleansing the land.