Clyw f'enaid clyw mae nefol gân yn tonni

Clyw, f'enaid, clyw!
    mae nefol gân yn tonni
  Hyd ddaear werdd, a
      glannau llaith y lli:
Bendigaid gân sy'n gwneud
    i'r enaid lonni
  Am newydd oes
      heb bechod ynddi hi.

    Engyl yr Iesu,
        engyl y wawr,
  Canant eu croeso
      i deulu'r nos yn awr.

Awn, awn ymlaen;
    ein galw mae yr engyl,
  "Dos, enaid blin,
      mae'r Iesu'n dwedyd 'Dos'";
A thua'n cartre' nefol,
    mae'r Efengyl,
  Â pheraidd sain,
      yn arwain yn y nos.

Draw, draw ymhell,
    galwadau'r Iesu seiniant,
  Fel clychau hwyrol dros
      y ddae'r a'r lli,
A miloedd, dan eu beichiau'n
    llesg, glustfeiniant -
  O! Fugail mwyn,
      dwg hwynt i'th gorlan Di.

Cenwch ymlaen,
    angylion, wrth ein gŵylio,
  Cenwch in geinciau
      o'r caniadau fry;
Nes torri dydd y gân
    ar nos yr ŵylo,
  Nes chwalu o gariad
      Duw bob cwmwl du.

Hear, my soul, hear
    the heavenly song billowing
  Across the green earth, and
      the wet banks of the flood-tide:
A blessed song which is
    making the soul rejoice
  About a new age
      without sin in it.

    The gospel of Jesus,
        the gospel of the dawn,
  They sing their welcome
      to the family of the night now.

Let us go, go forward;
    calling us is the gospel,
  "Go, weary soul,
      Jesus is saying 'Go'";
And towards our heavenly home,
    the Gospel is,
  With a sweet sound,
      leading in the night.

Yonder, yonder distant,
    the calls of Jesus they sound,
  Like evening bells across
      the earth and the flood-tide,
And thousands, weak under their
    burdens, who are evesdropping -
  O tender Shepherd,
      lead them to Thy fold!

Sing on, angels,
    while watching over us,
  Sing to us the strains
      of the songs above;
Until the breaking of the day of song
    upon the night of weeping,
  Until the disintegrating by the
      love of God of every black cloud.

Hark! hark, my soul!
    angelic songs are swelling,
  O'er earth's green fields and
      ocean's wave-beat shore:
How sweet the truth
    those blessčd strains are telling
  Of that new life
      when sin shall be no more.

    Angels of Jesus,
        angels of light,
  Singing to welcome
      the pilgrims of the night!

Onward we go, for still
    we hear them singing,
  "Come, weary souls,
      for Jesus bids you come";
And through the dark,
    its echoes sweetly ringing,
  The music of the Gospel
      leads us home.

Far, far away,
    like bells at evening pealing,
  The voice of Jesus
      sounds o'er land and sea;
And laden souls,
    by thousands meekly stealing,
  Kind Shepherd, turn
      their weary steps to Thee.

Angels, sing on,
    your faithful watches keeping;
  Sing us sweet fragments
      of the songs above,
Till morning's joy
    shall end the night of weeping,
  And life's long shadows
      break in cloudless love.