Y rhai a ddringant fynydd Duw

Y rhai a ddringant fynydd Duw,
  Gwnaed Ef hwy'n fendith fawr:
A boed i'r gras sydd yn y llu
  Ddylanwi llwythau'r llawr.

Rhad ras yn gymhorth ar bob pryd,
  O deued oddifry;
A holl drysorau cariad drud
  A lanwo'n daear ni.

Ein henaid fyddo megys maes,
  Yr hwn fendithiodd Duw,
Yn rhoddi'n brydlon ffrwythau gras,
  Fel gwyrddlas brenau byw.

Yn goedydd paradwysaidd dir,
  Boed ini'n wir gael bod;
Yn gwreiddio'n îs, a thyfu'n uwch,
  Nes i berffeithrwydd dd'od.

Those who climb the mountain of God,
  He made them a great blessing:
And let the grace that is in the host
  Influence the tribes of earth below.

Free grace as a help at every time,
  O let it come from above;
And all the treasures of precious love
  Fill our earth.

Our souls be like a field,
  One that God has blessed,
Giving in season the fruits of grace,
  Like living green trees.

As the trees of a paradisiacal land,
  Let us truly get to be;
Rooting below, and growing above,
  Until coming to perfection.

Us, who climb thy holy hill,
  A general blessing make;
Let the world our influence feel,
  Our gospel grace partake:
Grace to help in time of need,
  Pour out on sinners from above;
All thy Spirit's fullness shed,
  In showers of heavenly love.


Make our earthly souls a field
  Which Go delights to bless;
Let us in due season yield
  The fruits of righteousness:
Make us trees of paradise,
  Which more and more thy praise may show,
Deeper sink, and higher rise,
  And to perfection grow.