Haul bore a gyfododd
    uch aelgerth y bryn,

Trwy'r niwl y llewyrchodd,
    disgynodd tês gwyn;

  Ac wedi yn mhen ennyd,
      (mae anian yn gre',)

  Yr wybren a dduodd,
      cynhyrfodd y ne';


Gan wlaw nis cair eiste'
        ar y crasdir:


Cyffelyb yw Cristion
    fo radlawn ei fryd,

Wrth gychwyn o niwliog
    anialwch y byd;

  'Nol dwfr edifeirwch
      prawf degwch y dydd;

  Ail wena haul einioes
      'nol byroes y bydd


Dragywydd ysblennydd, nis blinir!

The morning sun arose
    above the cheek of the hill,

Through the mist it shone,
    a white haze descended;

  And then after a while,
      (nature is strong,)

  The sky blackened,
      heaven became agitated;


Because of rain we cannot sit
        on the parched ground:


Similar is the Christian
    though his mind be gracious,

On starting from the misty
    desert of the world;

  After the water of repentance
      the day's test of fairness;

  The sun will shine again for a lifetime
      after a short age there shall be


A splendid eternity, never to tire!

How fine has the day been!
    how bright was the sun!
How lovely and joyful the
    course that he run;
Though he rose in a mist
    when his race he begun,
  And there followed some
      droppings of rain:
But now the fair traveller's
    come to the west,
His rays are all gold,
    and his beauties are best;
He paints the skies gay as
    he sinks to his rest,
  And foretells a bright
      rising again.

Just such is the Christian.
    His course he begins
Like the sun in a mist,
    while he mourns for his sins,
And melts into tears!
    then he breaks out and shines,
  And travels his heavenly way:
But when he comes nearer
    to finish his race,
Like a fine setting sun,
    he looks richer in grace;
And gives a sure hope,
    at the end of his days,
  Of rising in brighter array.