Ym mlodau'th oes mewn nerth yn awr

Ym mlodau'th oes, mewn nerth yn awr,
  Iawn gofia'th fawr Greawdydd,
Ac i'w wasanaeth dwys a da
  Cyssegra dy foreu-ddydd.

Mae 'nawr dy deimlad oll yn frwd,
  Daw serch yn ffrwd
      o'th galon;
A ph'eth i hwn yn wrthddrych rhwydd
 Gei'n well na'r Arglwydd tirion?

Pwy'n gyfaill gwell yn hyn o fyd,
  I roi dy oglud arno?
A phwy yn well i fod o'th blaid,
  Pan bydd yn rhaid ymado?

Nid addas d'od i'w winllan ef,
  Gan godi llef edifar,
Yn ol i'r nerth a'r grym lesghâu
  Wrth foddio duwiau daear.

Mae'r dyddiau blin yn agoshau,
  Mae'n fyr, mae'n frau dy fywyd;
At waith dy Dduw, O dere 'nawr,
  Cei brofi'n
      fawr dy wynfyd.

Dos, dos, a gad y byd ym mhell,
  Ni chei di well gwobrwywr, -
Cei deimlo,
    foreu a phrydnawn,
  Yn hyfryd iawn dy gyflwr.

O dan ei ofal tirion ef
  Cei oll yn nef o'th ddeutu;
Yn nyffryn angau, dan ei law,
  Yn wyneb braw
      cei ganu.

Cei yn y nefoedd gyda'i saint
  Yn fawr dy fraint ei ganmol, -
Ar dir y gwynfyd
    golau glân,
  Dyrchafu'r gan drag'wyddol.

In the flowers of thy age, in strength now,
  Remember well thy great Creator,
And to serve him intently and well
  Consecrate thy morn of day.

Now thy feeling is all a stream,
  Affection comes as a stream
      from thy heart;
And what to this as a ready object
  Hast thou better than the tender Lord?

Who as a better friend in this world,
  To give thy attitude unto?
And who better to be on thy side,
  When it is necessary to depart?

Not worthy to come to his vineyard,
  Raising a repentant cry,
After strength and force grows feeble
  Pleasing the gods of earth.

The grievous days are approaching,
  It is short, fragile is thy life;
To the work of thy God, O come now!
  Thou wilt get to experience
      greatly thy blessedness.

Go, go, and leave the world far away,
  Thou wilt not get a better rewarder, -
Thou wilt get to feel,
    morning and afternoon,
  Very delightfully thy condition.

Under his tender care
  Thou wilt get all in heaven around thee;
In the valley of death, under his hand,
  In the face of terror
      thou wilt get to sing.

Thou wilt get in heaven with the saints
  Greatly thy privilege to praise him, -
On the land of the blessedness
    of pure light,
  To raise the eternal song.