Mae, mae 
Yr amser hyfryd yn nesáu
Pan gaffo f'enaid ei ryddhau
  O'm tŷ o glai, fynd tua'm gwlad.
    Nid yma mae 'ngorffwysfa i -
  Mae honno fry yn nhŷ fy Nhad.

      Bob dydd
Fy nhabernacl brau o bridd
O'i sylfaen yn adfeilio sydd;
  Nid ydyw amser hwn ym mhell:
    O f'enaid, cofia hyn bob càm,
  A meddwl am adeilad gwell.

      Pam, pam,
'Rwy'n caru aros yn nhir Ham?
Na bawn yn cwyno'n fwy bob cam,
  Mewn hiraeth am fy nefol Dŷ?
    Gael taflu 'lawr fy llen o gnawd,
  'Fynd at fy Mrawd a 'Mhriod fry.

      Fry, fry
Uwch awyr las, a'i disglair lu
Mae holl hyfrydwch f'enaid cu.
  'D'oes dim daioni yma i'w gael:
    'R wyf wedi gweld a phrofi'r byd -
  'D'oes ynddo i gyd
          ond gwagedd gwael.

      Gwael, gwael
Yw'r Parch a'r Elw
        sy yma i gael,
A'r holl bleserau gweigion sâl,
  Pethau na thâl byth eu mwynhau;
    O am y Nefol drysor drud,
  A'r bara o hyd sydd i barhau.

      Parhau
Mae cariad Duw i'w annwyl rai:
Hwy gânt yn wastad Ei fwynhau
  Heb achwyn trai yr ochor draw
    O na bawn gydag Ef yn byw!
  Fy Mhriod yw: pa bryd y daw?

      Daw, daw
Fy annwyl Iesu, maes o law,
I'm cyrchu drwodd i'r wlad draw,
  I'r bywyd distaw, pur, di-boen:
    Caf ganu'n llawen gyda'r llu
  Cân Moses fry,
          a chân yr Oen.

      Yr Oen
Aeth dan fy mhenyd i a'm poen,
Ni thawaf byth
        amdano â sôn;
  Ei gariad tirion fydd fy nghân
    Am iddo f'achub i trwy ras
  A'm tynnu i maes o'r gynnau dân.

               - - - - -

      Y mae 
Yr amser hyfryd yn nesâu
Pan gaffo f'enaid ei ryddhau
  O'm tŷ o glai - fynd tua'm gwlad;
    Nid yma mae 'ngorphwysfa i,
  Mae hòno fry yn nhŷ fy Nhad.

      Fe daw
Fy nefol Geidwad maes o law,
I'm cyrchu drwodd i'r wlad draw -
  I'r bywyd distaw, pur, diboen:
    Caf ganu'n
            llawen gyda'r llu
  Cân Moses fry,
          a chân yr Oen.

      O doed
Yr hyfryd fore goreu 'rioed
I'r rhai sy'n dylyn ôl ei droed:
  Pob ofnau ffoed - darfydded braw;
    Rho'th gariad im', addfwynaf Oen:
  Mi garaf son am ddydd a ddaw.

Dafydd Jones 1711-77

               - - - - -
       1,2,3,4,5,6;  1,2,5,3,6.

      Mae, mae,
Yr amser hyfryd yn nesâu,
Pan gaffo'm henaid ei ryddhâu,
  O'm tŷ o glai,
          fyn'd tu a'm gwlad:
    Nid yma mae 'ngorffwysfa i,
  Mae honno frŷ yn nhŷ fy Nhad.

      Daw, daw,
Fy Iesu i'm harwain yn ei law,
O'r anial drwg, i'r ardal draw,
  I'r bywyd dystaw, pur, di-boen:
    Câf ganu'n llafar gydâ'r llu,
  Gân Moses fry,
          a chân yr Oen.

      Ni ddaw,
Na phoen na gofid, och, na braw,
I neb o'r saint yr ochr draw,
  Doent yn ei law,
          i'r hyfryd wlad:
    I seinio i drag'wyddoldeb mwy,
  Am farwol glwy',
          ac am y gwaed.

      Gwlad, gwlad,
O'r lle 'rwy'n dysgwyl llwyr ryddhâd,
O law 'ngelynion,
        mawr eu brâd,
  Trwy rinwedd gwaed
          fy Iesu gwiw;
    'Does gelyn mwy a ddaw i'r làn,
  I'r hyfryd fan,
          ar fyr câf fyw.

      Braint, braint,
Yw cael cymdeithas gydâ'r saint,
Na welodd neb erioed ei maint,
  Ni ddaw un haint, fyth iddyn' hwy;
    Y mae'r gymdeithas yma'n gref,
  Ond yn y nef hi fydd yn fwy.

      Gwledd, gwledd,
O fywyd a thragwyddol hêdd,
Sydd yn y byd tu draw i'r bedd;
  Mor hardd fydd gwedd
          y dyrfa i gyd
    Sy'n byw ar haeddiant
            gwaed yr Oen
  O sŵn y boen,
          sy yn y byd.

gwelir:
  Braint braint (Yw cael cymdeithas gyda'r saint)
  Draw'r wlad (O'r lle'r wy'n dysgwyl llwr ryddhâd)
  Fe gân (Y gwaredigion fawr a mân)
  Fry fry (Uwch awyr las a'i dysglaer lu)
  Gwledd gwledd (O fywyd a thragwyddol hedd)
  Mae mae (Y dydd yn d'od i'r duwiol rai)
  O pwy (All chwilio dyfais dwyfol glwy')?
  Y mae (Y dydd yn d'od i'r duwiol rai)
  Yn lle [yn lle] (Pob perchen enaid dan y ne')

      It is, it is
The delightful time is drawing near
When my soul will be set free
  From my house of clay, to go to my land.
    Not here is my resting-place -
  That is above in my Father's house.

      Every day
My fragile tabernacle of soil
From its foundation is decaying;
  This time is not far off:
    O my soul, remember this every step,
  And think on a better building.

      Why, why,
Am I loving staying in the land of Ham?
Or would I be complaining more every step,
  In longing for my heavenly house?
    To get to cast down my curtain of flesh,
  To go to my Brother and my Spouse above.

     Up, up
Above the blue sky, and the shining host
Is the whole delight of my dear soul.
  There is no goodness here to be had:
    I have seen what the world experiences -
  There is nothing in it all
          but abject emptiness.

      Poor, poor
Is the honour and the profit
        that is here to get,
And all the sick, vain pleasures,
  Things that never pay their enjoyment;
    O for the precious, heavenly treasure,
  And the bread that is always to endure.

      Abiding
Is the love of God to his dear ones:
They may enjoy Him forever
  Without tidal grumbling on the far side
    O that I would live with Him!
  My Redeemer he is: when will he come?

      He comes, comes
My dear Jesus, at hand,
To fetch me through to yonder land,
  To the quiet, pure, painless life:
    I may sing joyfully with the host
  The song of Moses above,
          and the song of the Lamb.

      The Lamb
Came for my atonement and my grief,
I will not keep silent ever
        about him with a report;
  His tender love will be my song
    About his saving me through grace
  And pulling me out of the blazing fire.

                - - - - -

      It is
The delightful time is drawing near
When my soul wil be free
  From my house of clay - to go to my land;
    Not here is my rest,
  That is above in my Father's house.

      He is coming
My heavenly Saviour presently,
To start me through to yonder land -
  To the quiet, pure, pain-free life:
    I shall get to sing
            joyfully with the host
  The song of Moses above,
          and the song of the Lamb.

      O may it come
The most delightful morning ever
For those who follow his footprint:
  May all fears flee - may terror pass away;
    Give thy love to me, most gentle Lamb:
  I love to mention the day to come.

                - - - - -
 

      It is, it is
The delightful time is drawing near,
When my soul gets set free,
  From my house of clay,
          to go towards my land:
    Not here is my resting-place,
  That is above in my Father's house.

      Come, come,
Will my Jesus to lead me by his hand,
From the evil desert, to the region yonder,
  To the quiet, pure, painless life:
    I will get to sing aloud with the host,
  The song of Moses above,
          and the song of the Lamb.

      Come not,
Shall either grief, woe, or terror,
To any of the saints on yonder side,
  Let them come by his hand,
          to the delightful land:
    To sound for an eternity evermore,
  About a mortal wound,
          and about the blood.

      A land, land,
From where I am expecting complete freedom,
From the hand of enemies,
        of great treachery,
  Through the merit of the blood
          of my worthy Jesus;
    No enemy shall come up any more,
  To the delightful place,
          where shortly I shall get to live.

      A privilege, privilege,
It is to have fellowship with the saints,
The extent of which no-one ever saw,
  No infection shall ever come to them;
    The fellowship here is strong,
  But in heaven it shall be greater.

      A feast, feast,
Of life and eternal peace,
Which is in the world beyond the grave;
  How beautiful shall be the condition
          of all the throng
    Who are living on the merit
            of the blood of the Lamb
  Away from the sound of the pain
          that is in the world.