Clywch genhadon Duw yn galw

Clywch genadon Duw yn galw!
  Bechaduriaid, heddyw dewch
I briodas Mab y Brenin,
  Croesaw grasol ganddo gewch:
Dewch yn glau, mae'n hwyrhau,
Cyn y caffo'r drws ei gau.

Pob peth ar y bwrdd sy'n barod,
  Swper peraidd wedi'i drin -
Gwledd basgedigion breision,
  A phuredig loyw win;
Weithian dewch, a bwytewch,
Gwledd o gariad yma gewch.

Pallu dyfod mae'r gwŷr llawnion
  A'u hesguson ofer iawn;
Ac er dyfod lluoedd lawer
  Nid yw'r bwrdd ddim hanner llawn.
Brenin ne', gwawdd mae fe,
Ato i'r wledd mae eto le.

Dewch y tlodion, cloffion, deillion,
  A'r efryddion rai di-nerth,
Na chaed tlodi'ch cadw allan,
  Dewch heb arian a heb werth.
Mae fo'n hael, i rai gwael,
Na bo ganthynt ddim i'w gael.

Ceisiwch wisgoedd y briodas,
  Hardd ac addas fydd y rhain,
Pur gyfiawnder y Meseia,
  Gwynion glān o liain main.
'Rhain a'ch dyd, na boch fud,
Ac a guddia'ch brychau i gyd.

Dewch afradlon blant tuag adre',
  Wedi crwydro mewn gwlad bell;
Ymadewch ā'r moch a'r cibau,
  Chwi gewch wledd a gwisgoedd gwell.
Dewch bob gradd, Mae'n eich gwadd,
A'r llo pasgedig gwedi'i ladd.

Hear ye the emissaries of God calling!
  Sinners, today come ye
To the wedding of the Son of the King,
  A gracious welcome from him ye shall get:
Come quickly, it is getting late,
Before the doors get shut.

Everything on the table is ready,
  A sweet supper has been prepared -
A feast of baskets of rich things,
  And purified clear wine;
Henceforth come ye, and eat,
A feast from love here you will get.

Failing to come are the full men
  With their very useless excuses;
And although many hosts have come
  The table is not half full.
The King of heaven, inviting is he,
To the feast there is still room.

Come ye poor, lame, blind,
  And the beggars, those without strength,
Let not poverty keep you out,
  Come ye without money and without worth.
He is generous, to the poor,
Who have nothing for him to get.

Seek ye the garments of the wedding,
  Beautiful and worthy are those,
The pure righteousness of the Messiah,
  Clean, white, of fine linen.
Those he shall give you, be not mute,
And he shall cover all your spots.

Come, prodigal children towards home,
  Having wandered in a distant land;
Leave the pigs and the pods,
  Ye shall get a feast and better clothes.
Come, every degree, it is your invitation,
And the fatted calf has been slaughtered.