Gwêl uwchlaw cymylau amser

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8;  1,3,((4),5,),8;  1,3,5,6,8;  1,6,8.
(Y nefol wlad)
Gwêl uwchlaw cymylau amser,
  O! fy enaid, gwêl y tir,
Lle mae'r awel fyth yn dyner,
  Lle mae'r wybren fyth yn glir:
    Hapus dyrfa
  Sydd yn nofio yn ei hedd.

Gwêl a chred! mae yna drigfan,
  Oes, a choron deg i ti:
Golud hon ni threulir allan,
  Gwêl a chais ei golud hi,
    A deilyngwyd
  Yn yr ardd drwy iawnol chwys.

Ynddi tarddu ffynhonau bywyd,
  Trwyddi llif afonydd hedd,
I ddyfrau ei bröydd hyfryd,
  Ac i anfarwoli ei gwedd:
    Iachawdwriaeth
  Ar ei glàn anedlir mwy.

Saethau'r bedd ni allant esgyn
  I'w hagosaf dalaeth hi,
Ac ni faidd y marwol elyn
  Sangu ar ei rhandir, fry:
    Cartref bywyd!
  Cartref anfarwoldeb yw!

Troir awelon glỳn
      marwolaeth
  Oll yn hedd tu yma i'r fàn,
Trŷ holl ocheneidiau hiraeth
  Yn anthemau ar y làn;
    Syrth y deigryn
  Olaf i'r Iorddonen ddu!

Nid oes yno neb yn ŵylo,
  Yno nid oes neb yn brudd,
Troir yn fêl y wermod yno,
  Yno rhoir y caeth yn rhydd:
    Hapus dyrfa
  sydd â'u trigfa yno mwy.

Iachawdwriaeth ar ei hawel
  Lif, a chyfoeth o fwynhâd;
Mae ei hanthem fyth yn uchel,
  A'i thrysorau fyth yn rhad,
    A'i gogoniant
  Yn disgleirio fel yr haul.

Mae fy nghalon brudd yn llamu
  O orfoledd dan fy mron,
Yn y gobaith am feddiannu
  'R etifeddiaeth ddwyfol hon:
    Hapus dyrfa
  Sydd â'u hwyneb tua'r wlad.
Cartref bywyd! :: Angau yno?
wermod :: bustl

William Thomas (Islwyn) 1832-78

Tonau [878747]:
Blaencefn (John Thomas 1839-1922)
Capel-y-ddôl (Joseph D Jones 1827-70)
Frankfort (P Nicolai 1556-1608)
Hapus Dyrfa (<1905)
Islwyn (David Lewis 1828-1908)
Pen-y-Bryn (D Emlyn Evans 1843-1913)
Philadelphia (Daniel Protheroe 1866-1934)
St Garmon (E M Price 1816-98)
St Hildebert (alaw Regoraidd)
Y Delyn Aur (alaw Gymreig)

(The heavenly land)
See above the clouds of time,
  O my soul, see the land,
Where the breeze is forever gentle,
  Where the sky is forever clear:
    A happy throng
  Is swimming in its peace.

See and believe, there is a dwelling,
  Yes, and a fair crown for thee!
This wealth is not to wear out,
  See and seek its wealth,
    That was deserved
  In the garden through atoning sweat.

In it springs the fount of life,
  Through it flows the river of peace,
To water its lovely vales,
  And to immortalise its face:
    Salvation
  On its bank is to be breathed henceforth.

The arrows of the grave cannot ascend
  To its nearest region,
And the mortal enemy dare not
  Tread on its territory, above:
    The home of life!
  It is the home of immortality!

The breezes of the vale of
        death will be turned
  All to peace on this side of the place,
All the sighs of longing will turn
  To anthems on the shore;
    The last tear will
  Fall into the black Jordan!

No one there weeps,
  No one there is sorrowful,
Wormwood will turn sweet there,
  There the captive will be set free:
    A happy throng
  Will have its dwelling there evermore.

Salvation on its breeze
  Shall flow, and a wealth of enjoyment;
Its anthem shall be loud,
  And its treasures forever free,
    And its glory
  Shining like the sun.

My sorrowful heart is leaping
  From joy beneath my breast,
In the hope of possessing
  This divine inheritance:
    A happy throng
  Have their faces towards the land.
The home of life! :: Death there?
wormwood :: bile

tr. 2010,19 Richard B Gillion

 
See, my soul, the land of brightness
  Far above the clouds of time;
Where the breeze with balmy lightness
  Bloweth through a genial clime;
    Joyful thousands!
  Moving in its rest serene.








Life has there its crystal fountains,
  Peace - whose rivers softly flow,
To refresh its vales and mountains,
  To immortalize its glow;
    And salvation
  On the sunny shores is breathed.

Never can a mortal arrow
  On its nearest province fall:
Death's dominion is but narrow--
  There it cometh not at all:
    Life abundant;
  Immortality at home!

Every breeze of
    winter changes
  On the shore to heavenly calm;
O'er its fields no sorrow ranges,
  Every sigh becomes a psalm:
    Into Jordan
  Falls the last most bitter tear.

There - there is not one that mourneth,
  There - there is not any sad;
There - the gall to honey turneth,
  There - the bound is free and glad:
    Joyful thousands!
  There abiding evermore!








Now my heart is filled with blessing,
  And a sacred joy is mine,
In the hope of soon possessing
  That inheritance Divine:
    Joyful thousands!
  Drawing near that promised land!
 
 

tr. Howell Elvet Lewis [Elfed] 1860-1953
Sweet Singers of Wales 1889

also:

Far above earth's cloudy regions
tr. W Williams
Cân a Mawl / Song and Praise 1918

Tune [878747]: Philadelphia (Daniel Protheroe 1866-1934)

The middle column is a literal translation of the Welsh. A Welsh translation is identified by the abbreviation 'cyf.' (emulation by 'efel.'), an English translation by 'tr.'

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