Pob llwyth ac iaith
    fydd yn gytun,
Yr Iuddew fel y Cenedl-ddyn;
Fe glywir llais yn mhlith y llu,
Am waith Oen Duw
    ar Ethiop du:
  Clywch lais yr udgorn clir,
  Yn galw i Salem dir;
  Cawn, cawn feddiannu'r wlad
Ordeiniwyd i ni gan ein Tad.

Fe ddarfu'r nos
    a'r gauaf du,
Mae'n dechreu gwawrio oddi fry;
Cysgodau'r hwyr a aeth yn mhell,
Nesâu mae'r dydd -
    daw cynydd gwell;
  Clwch llais yr adar mân,
  Mor beraidd yw eu cân!
  Ffown, ffown ar aden ffydd
I fynwes Duw yn ngoleu'r dydd.

Every tribe and language
    will be in agreement,
The Jew as well as the gentile;
A voice is heard amongst the throng,
Of the Lamb of God's work
    for the black Ethiopian;
  Here the clear voice of the trumpet,
  Calling to Salem land;
  Yes, we may occupy the land
Ordained for us by our Father.

The night and the black winter
    will fade away,
It is starting to dawn from above;
Shadows of the evening have gone far away,
Nearing is the day -
    better growth is coming;
  Hear the voice of the little birds,
  How sweet is their song!
  Let us fly, fly on the wing of faith
To the bosom of God in the light of day.

All tribes and tongues
    together come,
The scattered Jews and Gentiles, home;
Throughout the host a chorus runs,
Of special praise
    for Ethiop sons.
  Hark, hark ! the tide of song,
  Rolls onward from the throng:
  Soon Zion shall obtain
The purchase of Messiah's pain.