Ymdeithydd wy'n y byd

  Ymdeithydd wy'n y byd,
    Fel rhai o'm tadau gynt,
  Sy'n morio lawer pryd
    Yn erbyn llanw a gwynt:
Mae 'ngolwg wiw tua'r
      hyfryd wlad
Lle mae fy Nhad a'm ffryndiau'n byw.

  Hen Abra'm aeth o'r bla'n,
    A'r holl brif seintiau gwych,
  Tua Salem ddinas lân,
    Ei gwel'd yr oe'nt trwy ddrych;
Mae'r rhai'n i gyd 'nawr gyda'u Duw,
Mewn hedd yn byw, O gwyn eu byd.

  Trwy ddyrys fôr y byd
    'Rwyf finau'n teithio'n dyn,
  Tuag at fy nghartref clyd,
    Sydd fry ar Sïon fryn:
O hyfryd le, pa awr, pa bryd
Caiff f'enaid drud fyn'd yno'i dre?

  Mae'r tònau lawer gwaith
    A'r stormydd mawr eu stŵr,
  Yn curo f'enaid llaith
    Nes byddo dàn y dŵr:
Ond Iesu ddaw, ac yn y mân
Fe'm c'od i'r làn â'i gadarn law.

  Drachefn yr ydwy'i'n gry',
    'N ymroi i drafaelu'n iach;
  Y deheu wynt y sy'
    Yn chwythu ar f'enaid bach;
Tua Salem lân, er gwaetha'r hin,
A'r 'stormydd blin, mi â'n y blaen.

  Pan byddo awyr glir,
    'R wy'n gwel'd trwy
          ddrych di-frêg
  Rai manau o Salem dir,
    A'm hetifeddiaeth deg:
A'r olwg hon, trwy
      gwrs fy nhaith,
Ddôd f'enaid llaith i fyn'd yn llon.

  Er bod y ffordd yn faith,
    A rhwystrau eto 'mlaen,
  Câf orphen ar fy nhaith,
    A glànio i Salem lân:
Marwolaeth ddaw, câf
      fyn'd heb ble,
Yn iach i dre' yr ochr draw.

  Ac yno gwỳn fy myd,
    Tu draw i'r byd a'r bedd;
  Câf yno fyw o hyd
    Mewn hawddfyd ac mewn hedd:
Yn canu'n bêr i'r Iesu mwyn,
Am iddo'm dwyn i Salem dir.

  A traveller am I in the world,
    Like some of my fathers formerly,
  Who is sailing many a time
    Against tide and wind:
My worthy gaze is towards the
      delightful country
Where my Father and my friends are living.

  Old Abraham who went before,
    And all the brilliant chief saints,
  Towards the holy city of Salem,
    Seeing him they were through a mirror;
All of those are now with their God,
In peace living, O blessed are they!

  Through the troublesome sea of the world
    I also am travelling as a man,
  Towards my secure home,
    That is up on Zion hill:
O delightful place, what hour, what time
Shall my precious soul get to go home there?

  The waves many times
    And the storms of great disturbance,
  Strike my timid soul
    Until I would be under water;
But Jesus comes, and soon
He will raise my head up with his firm hand.

  Again I am strong,
    Committing myself to struggle well;
  The south wind is
    Blowing on my little soul;  
Towards holy Salem, despite the weather,
And the grievous storms, I will go on.

  Whenever the air be clear,
    I can see through a
          faultless looking-glass
  Some places of Salem land
    And my fair inheritance:
With this view, through the
      course of my journey,
My timid soul shall come to go cheerfully.

  Although the way be long,
    With obstacles still ahead,
  I may get to finish my journey,
    And land at holy Salem:
Death may come, I may get
      to go without doubt,
Whole to town on the other side.

  And there how blessed I shall be,
    Beyond the world and the grave;
  I will get the live there always
    In pleasure and in peace:
Singing sweetly to gentle Jesus,
For his bringing me to Salem land.