O canwn fawl i'r Arglwydd Dduw

O canwn fawl i'r Arglwydd Dduw,
  Mor felus yw ei foliant ef;
Cyd dynnwn
    ganiad yn gytun,
  A'n llef yn un â
      llu y nef.

Ein gwynfyd yw, tra fo'm ni byw,
  Moliannu Duw yn hyn o fyd;
A rhagorfraint
    y siriol saint,
  Yw gwel'd eu braint
      o bryd i bryd.

Gwynfyd y sawl sy' â hyn o hawl,
  Canant ei fawl
      a'i foliant clyd;
Canwn i'r Oen ryw dirion dôn,
  Gwerth ei waed
      gwirion y'm ni gyd.

Brenhin y saint, ein Brawd,
    a'n braint,
  A roddodd faint a
      feddai'n rhad;
I'r briod-ferch trwy siriol serch
  Gan fynych annerch
      gwerth ei wa'd.

O let us sing praise to the Lord God,
  How sweet is his praise;
Let us prepare together
    a song in agreement,
  With our voice as one with
      the host of heaven.

We have this delight, while ever we live,
  To praise God in this world;
And the prerogative of
    the cheerful saints,
  Is to see their privilege
      from time to time.

Blessed are those who have this right,
  They sing his praise
      and his ready acclaim;
Let us sing to the Lamb some tender tune,
  The work of his innocent
      blood are we all.

The King of the saints, our Brother,
    and our privilege,
  Who gave so much that
      would possess us freely;
To the bride through cheerful affection
  By the manifold appealing
      of the worth of his blood.