Mor ddedwydd yw y dyrfa fawr

Mor ddedwydd yw y dyrfa fawr,
  Sydd yn y gwynfyd draw,
Mewn gynau gwynion fel y wawr, 
  A'u palmwydd yn eu llaw!

O ffrydiau'r afon
    yfant byth,
  Bwytânt o ffrwyth
      y pren:
A'u gwynfyd bery yn ddilyth,
  Tra pery'r nefoedd wen.

How happy is the great throng,
  Which is in the bliss yonder,
In white robes like the dawn,
  With their palm-trees in their hand!

From the streams of the river
    they will drink forever,
  They will eat from the
      fruits of the tree:
And their bliss will endure unfailingly,
  While ever the bright heavens endure.

I see a world of spirits bright,
  Who reap the pleasures there;
They all are robed in purest white,
  And conquering palms they bear.

They drink the
    deifying stream,
  They pluck
      th' ambrosial fruit,
And each records the praise of him
  Who tuned his golden lute.