Clyw f'enaid clyw ganiadau yr angylion

Clyw, f'enaid, clyw
      ganiadau yr angylion
  Yn llenwi'r ddaear las
        a glannau'r don;
A neges hyfryd gluda
      nodau mwynion,
  Am fywyd gwell,
        heb bechod dan y fron.

    Engyl yr Iesu,
          engyl y wawr,
    Canant eu croeso i blant
          y cystudd mawr.

Awn rhagom, awn, yn sŵn
      y nodau persain:
  "Dewch, lesg eneidiau,
        geilw Iesu chwi;"
A thrw'r tywyllwch dudew
      clywir atsain,
  Hyfrydlef yr efengyl ydyw hi.

Draw, draw ymhell, fel
      clychau hwyrnos dawel,
  Daw llais yr Iesu
        dros y môr a thir,
Eneidiau dan eu baich
      yn lluoedd ddychwel
  At y Pen-bugail
        wedi crwydro'n hir.

Cawn orffwys, cawn,
      ar ôl blinderau'r yrfa,
  Fe gilia'r nos, a
        thyr y bore wawr,
Mwynha'r pererin, bellach,
      hedd yng ngwynfa,
  Paradwys yw ei gartref
        ef yn awr.

Hear, my soul, hear the
      songs of the angels
  Filling the blue-green earth
        and the shores of the wave;
And gentle notes convey
      a delightful message
  About a better life,
        without sin under the breast.

    The angels of Jesus,
          the angels of the dawn,
    They sing their welcome to the children
          of the great tribulation.

Let us go onward, onward, in the sound
      of the sweetly-sounding notes:
  "Come, feeble souls,
        Jesus calls you;"
And through the thick, black darkness
      an echo is heard,
  The delightful cry of the gospel it is.

Yonder, far yonder, like
      the bells of a quiet, late night,
  Comes the voice of Jesus
        over the see and land,
Souls under their burden
      in hosts return
  To the Chief-shepherd
        having wandered long.

We may get rest, we may,
      after the griefs of the course,
  The night retreats, and
        the morning dawn breaks,
The pilgrims, henceforth, shall enjoy
      peace in the blessedness,
  Paradise is his
        home now.

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
      blessèd 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.

Rest comes at length: though
      life be long and dreary,
  The day must dawn, and
        darksome night be past;
Faith's journeys end in
      welcome to the weary,
  And Heaven, the heart's true home,
        will come at last.