Fe gaiff pob dyfroedd sur

Fe gaiff pob dyfroedd sur,
Gwenwynllyd diffaeth dir,
  I wneyd lleshad;
Pereiddia nefol ras
Y cystudd chwerwa'i flas,
A thyn o hono'i ma's,
  Ddwyfol iachâd.

Yn awr mae ffrwythau'r nef,
Gwaeth ei oddefaint ef,
  Hyfryd gerllaw;
Grawnsypiau dwyfol gwir,
Gwell nag o Escol dir,
Sy'n d'od ar drostan pur
  O'r Ganaan draw.

Mae'n ddiau fod y wlad
Dragwyddol ei pharhad,
  O ffrwythau'n llawn;
Mae cnwd ar groesbren îr,
Almonau hyfryd pur,
Ffryth paradwysaidd dir,
  Pereiddiaf rawn.

gwelir: Caf weled cyn bo hir

All bitter waters,
Poisonous wasteland, shall
  Be made a benefit;
Heavenly grace shall sweeten
The affliction of bitterest taste,
And draw out of it
  Divine healing.

Now the fruits of heaven is,
Despite its patience,
  Delightfully at hand;
True, divine grape clusters,
Better than those of the land of Eshcol,
Are coming on a pure beam
  From yonder Canaan.

It is doubtless that the land is
Eternally enduring
  With full fruits;
There is a crop on the green wooden cross,
Delightfully pure almonds,
Fruit of the land of paradise,
  The sweetest grain.