Mae'n bryd i ni ganu ni gawsom y fraint

Mae'n bryd i ni ganu
    ni gawsom y fraint,
Mae'r rhyfel yn cerdded
    o ochr y saint;
  Mae'n Brenin ni'n dyfod
      â'i gledde ar ei glun,
  Fe sathrodd y gwinwryf
      bob gronyn ei hun.

Caf gyda'm Hanwylyd
    deyrnasu mewn hedd,
Yn mhell uwch cyrhaeddiad
    holl ddychryn y bedd,
  Cawn wisgo coronau
      filiynau y'nghyd,
  A chanmawl byth bythoedd
      Iachawdwr y byd.

Y clod, a'r gogoniant,
    a'r gallu, bob rhyw,
A redo fel moroedd
    i enw fy Nuw,
  Y dechreu a'r diwedd
      o'r ddaear i'r ne',
  O ras ac o haeddiant
      ei hunan yw E'.

         - - - - -

Mae'n bryd i ni ganu,
    ni gawsom y fraint,
Mae'r rhyfel yn cerdded
    o ochr y saint:
  Gan hynny dechreuwch,
      mae'n ddigon o bryd,
  I ganu caniadau
      i Brynwr y byd.

Fe safodd i fynu,
    fe 'nillodd fath glod,
Bydd myrdd yn ei ganmol
    tra'r nefoedd yn hod;
  Efe wnaeth y cwbl,
      moliennir ef byth,
  Gan nefoedd a daear
      yn dyrfa dilyth.

Yn awr fe orphenodd,
    fe grymodd ei ben.
Mae heddyw'n meddiannu'r
    holl ddaear a'r nen:
  Mae'r meirw'n cyfodi,
      gorchfyg'odd y hedd,
  Mewn awr o gyfyngder
      fe wrendy fy llef.

Fel hyn fe a'm carodd,
    yn rhodd ac yn rhad,
Pa drysor mor dirfawr
    a gwerthfawr a gaed!
  Oen anwyl ei fynwes
      a gefais yn gu,
  Ac ynddo'n guddiedig
      fy mywyd i sy.

Mi gê's y ffrind goreu
    fyth fyth all'sai fod,
'R addewid a roddodd
    ni thorrodd erio'd;
  Er byw'n ei ogoniant
      y'nghanol y nef,
  Mewn awr o gyfyngder
      fe wrendy fy llef.

gwelir:
  Dewch gwelwch y preseb a chofiwch yr awr
  Ehengodd fy nghalon 'dwy'n deall pa fodd
  Mi ge's y Ffrynd goreu fyth fyth all'sai fod
  Yr afon a lifodd rhwng nefoedd a llawr
  Yr Arglwydd a'm carodd i'n rhyfedd erioed

It is time for us to sing
    we got the privilege,
The war is going
    the way of the saints;
  Our King is coming
     with his swords on his thigh,
  He trampled the winepress
     every grain himself.

I shall get with my Beloved
    to reign in peace,
Par above the reach
    of all the dread of the grave,
  Millions of us shall get to wear
      crowns all together,
  And extol forever and ever
      the Saviour of the world.
     
The acclaim, and the glory,
    and the power, every kind,
Shall run like seas
    to the name of my God,
  The beginning and the end
      from the earth to heaven,
  Of grace and of virtue
      he himself is.

            - - - - -

It is time for us to sing,
    we got the privilege,
The war is going
    the way of the saints:
  Therefore begin ye,
      it is high time,
  To sing songs
      to the King of the world.

He stood up,
    he won such acclaim,
A myriad shall be extolling him
    while ever the heavens be;
  'Tis he made the whole,
      he is to be praised forever,
  By heaven and earth
      an unfailing throng.

Now he finished,
    he bowed his head.
Today he is possessing all
    the earth and the sky:
  The dead are arising,
      he overcame the grave,
  In an hour of straits
      he will listen to my cry.
      
Thus he loved me,
    as a gift and freely,
What treasure so precious
    and valuable is found?
  A beloved lamb of his bosom
      I got to be dearly,
  And in him hidden
      my life is.

I got the best friend
    that ever, ever could be,
The promise he gave
    he never broke;
  Although living in his glory
      in the centre of heaven,
  In an hour of straits
      he will listen to my cry.