Mae'r nos yn ddu a gwynt nid oes

 
Mae'r nos yn ddu, a gwynt nid oes,
    un seren sy'n y nef,
A ninnau'n croesi maes a bryn
    i'r fan y gorwedd ef,
    holl obaith dyn yw ef.

Nid oes ogoniant yn y fan,
    dim ond yr eiddo ef,
A'r golau mwyn ar wyneb Mair
    fel gweddi tua'r nef,
    o galon mam i'r nef.

Nid mangre geni t'wysog yw,
    nid man i lawen lu,
Er hynny, clywodd nef a llawr
    ganiadau'r engyl fry,
    orfoledd engyl fry.

O faban glān, mor brudd yw'n bron
    gan wae sy'n gwywo'n gwedd:
O canwn iti'r bore hwn
    ganiadau newydd hedd,
    ganiadau bythol hedd.

The night is black, and there is no wind,
    one star is in the heaven,
And we crossing field and hill
    to the place where he lies,
    all the hope of man is he.

There is no glory in the place,
    none but that belonging to him,
And the gentle light on Mary's face
    like a prayer toward heaven,
    from a mother's heart to heaven.

No prince's fitting birthplace is it,
    no place for a joyful host,
Despite this, heaven and earth heard
    the songs of the angels above,
    the jubilation of angels above.

O holy babe, how sad is our breast
    from woe that withers our countenance:
O let us sing to thee this morning,
    new songs of peace,
    songs of everlasting peace.

The night is dark, the winds are still
    Once star is in the skies;
We follow over field and hill
    To where the baby lies!
    The hope of all men lies!

There is no glory in the place
    Save his who nestles there,
And that sweet light on Mary's face
    Whose look is like a prayer,
    A tender mother's prayer.

No palace for a prince's birth,
    No glad exultant throng;
Yet all the listening skies and earth
    Have heard the angels' song,
    The glorious angels' song.

O holy Babe, our hearts are torn
    With woes that will not cease;
O let us greet thee on this morn
    With songs of new-born peace,
    Of never-ending peace.