Canai yr angylion yn yr wybren dlos

Canai yr angylion
    yn yr wybren dlos,
A'u hadenydd gwynion
    yn goleuo'r nos;
  Cenadwri cariad
      ddygent hwy i'r byd:
  Iesu Grist yn Blentyn,
      yn ei isel gryd.

    Canwn ninau'n llawen,
      Ar bereiddiaf dant,
    Groesaw i'r Eneiniog,
      Brenhin hoff y plant.

I'r bugeiliaid tawel
    ymagorai'r nef,
Iddynt hwy mynegwyd
    am ei eni Ef;
  Caed yn ninas Dafydd,
      heb ddaearol fri,
  Mewn cadachau'n gorwedd,
      Grist ein Brenhin ni.

Brysio tua'i breseb
    wnai'r bugeiliaid cu
Dan ddylanwad canu
    y nefolaidd lu;
  Yno gwelent Geidwad,
      er mewn isel fan,
  Carent ac addolent
      Grist yn Blentyn gwan.

Yn ei lân blentyndod,
    a'i ieuenctid clir,
Ei holl ffyrdd oedd sanctaidd,
    a'i holl eiriau'n wir;
  Oes ofidus dreuliodd
      yma er ein mwyn,
  Gyda'i fywyd gwerthfawr
      prynodd Ef ei wyn.

Iesu, addfwyn Iesu,
    arwain ni bob un,
Gwna ni yn gariadus,
    megis Ti dy Hun:
  Dyro dy fendithion,
       gwrando ar ein cri,
  Y mae nawdd i'r egwan
       dan dy darian Di.

The angels would sing
    in the pretty sky,
With their white wings
    lighting the sky;
  A dispatch of love
      they would bring to the world:
  Jesus Christ as a Child,
      in his lowly crib.

    Let us sing joyfully,
      On the sweetest string,
    To welcome the Anointed,
      Beloved King of the children.

To the quiet shepherds
    heaven would open,
To them it was reported
    about His birth;
  Found in the city of David,
      without early esteem,
  In nappies lying,
      Was Christ our King.

Hurry towards the manger
    would the dear shepherds
Under the influence of the singing
    of the heavenly host;
  There they would see a Saviour,
      although in a lowly place,
  They would love and worship
      Christ as a weak Child.

In his pure childhood,
    and his clear youth,
His beloved ways were holy,
    and all his words true;
  A grievous age he spent
      here for our sake,
  With his precious life
      He redeemed his lambs.

Jesus, gentle Jesus,
    lead us every one,
Make us loving,
    like Thee Thyself:
  Grant thy blessings,
      listen to our cry,
  There is a refuge for the weak
      under Thy shield.

Sweetly sang the angels
    in the clear, calm night,
On their white wings resting
    in the heavenly light;
  Sent by God the Father,
      Who our love has sought,
  Unto men and children
      tidings glad they brought.

    Children, blend your voices,
      In sweet concord sing;
    Hail the Lord’s anointed,
      Christ, the children’s king.

To the gentle shepherds
    it was first revealed,
Watching 'mid the darkness
    in the open field.
  That in David's city,
      on that holy morn,
  In a lowly stable
      Christ, our king, was born.

Gladdened by the tidings,
    hastily they sped
To the crowded city
    and the manger bed;
  There they found the Saviour
      with His mother mild;
  Him they loved and worshipped,
      though a lowly child.

In His simple childhood,
    and His sacred youth,
All His ways were holy,
    all His ways were truth;
  For our sins He suffered,
      and, through grief untold,
  All His lambs He purchased
      for His sacred fold.

Jesus, meek and gentle,
    make us like to Thee;
Loving, true, and tender,
    Thou wouldst have us be;
  Blessings rich and holy,
      on this festal day,
  Pour Thou out upon us,
      Lord we humbly pray.