Cyduna'r faith ffurfafen fawr

Cyduna'r faith ffurfafen fawr,
A'r wybren nwyol gain ei gwawr,
  A'r nefoedd lawn dysgleirdeb byw,
  I draethu am ogoniant Duw.
Y diflin haul, o ddydd i dydd,
Yn dangos gallu ei Grëwr sydd,
  Ac yn cyhoeddi drwy bob gwlad
  Weithredoedd llaw ei ddwyfol Dad.

Pan ddel cysgodau'r hwyr ar led,
Y ganaid loer yr hanes dd'wêd;
  Bob nos yn nghlust y ddaear lawr,
  Adrodda waith ei Chrëwr mawr.
Tra'r tanllyd ser, o'i hamgylch sy,
A'r holl blanedau mawrion fry,
  Yn traethu'r hanes ar eu taith,
  A'i daenu drwy'r
      cyfanfyd maith.

Ac er mai mewn distawrwydd llwyr 
Y try 'rhai hyn o foreu i hwyr', 
  Ac er na chlywir gair na sain
  Drwy holl gylchdeithiau'r
      bydoedd cain,
Yn nghlustiau rheswm, llawenhant,
A thraethu'n orfoleddus wnant
  Mewn cydgan ogoneddus, fyw, -
  "Y llaw a'n gwnaeth,
      un ddwyfol yw."

The great, vast firmament unites,
With the gaseous sky whose dawn is fine,
  And the full, living, radiant heavens,
  To expound th glory of God.
The tireless sun, from day to day,
Are showing the power of its Creator,
  And announcing through every land
  The works of its heavenly Father's hand.

When the shadows of evening come abroad,
The bright moon the story tells;
  Every night in the ear of earth below,
  It reports the work of its great Creator.
While the fiery stars, that are around it,
With all the great planets above,
  Expounding the story on their journey,
  And spreading it throughout the
      whole vast world.

And though it is in complete silence
These turn from morning until evening,
  And although is heard no word or sound
  Throughout all the circuits of the
      fine worlds,
In the ears of reason, they rejoice,
And expound jubilantly they do
  In a glorious, living chorus, -
  "The hand that made us,
      a divine one it is."

The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,
  And spangled heavens, a shining frame
  Their great Original proclaim.
Th'unwearied sun, from day to day,
Does his creator's powers display,
  And publishes to every land
  The work of an almighty hand.

Soon as the evening shades prevail
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
  And nightly to the listening earth
  Repeats the story of her birth;
While all the stars that round her burn
And all the planets in their turn,
  Confirm the tidings as they roll,
  And spread the truth
      from pole to pole.

What though in solemn silence all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball?
  What though no real voice nor sound
  Amid the radiant
      orbs be found?
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
  Forever singing as they shine,
  The hand that made
      us is divine.