Yn awr garedigion O dygwch

Yn awr garedigion, O! dygwch,
  I'r Arglwydd cymhwyswch y mawl,
Mynegwch, cydgenwch ogoniant,
  Efe biau'r
      meddiant o'r mawl;
Mae'n deilwng o'r enw da'i rinwedd,
  Y clod a'r anrhydedd,
      trwy'r hin,
Am ddefnydd da fara difyrus,
  Ac adeg mor
      drefnus i'w drin.

Fe lythodd y ddaear, yn ddiau,
  A chnydau o ydau da iawn;
Fe drefnodd, ordeiniodd, hin dyner,
  Mewn amser, er cryfder i'r grawn;
A hyfryd dêg ennyd i'w gynnull,
  I'w gael at ein pebyll heb ball,
Yn ymborth da, moethus, ammheuthyn
  I filoedd, heb
      fymryn yn fall.

Gallasai roi mwlldod, a mallder,
  I'n llenwi gan brudd-der a braw,
Neu'i guro gan wyntoedd tymhestlog,
  A'r ddaear yn wlybog gan wlaw;
Neu anfon rhyw lawnder o lindys
  Arswydus i'n hynys yn haid,
A'u gadael i guro'n magwraeth,
  A gwynethur ei lluniaeth yn llaid.

Ond nid hyny, felly, fu 'w'llys,
  Na bwriad daionus, ein Duw, -
Nid bwriad troi'r
    wlad i dylodi,
  Ond bwriad am borthi
      rhaid byw;
Fe ffrwynodd, attaliodd, y tylwyth,
  Rhag gwnethur yn adwyth i ni;
Yn awr y mae genwm ddigonedd
  O ffrwythau pur ryfedd heb ri'.

Heblaw rhoi cynnaliaeth yn healedd,
  Rhoes hefyd dangnefedd i ni;
Cael beunydd hir dywydd mor dawel,
  Heb alwad i'r rhyfel yn rhi';
Cael hau a chael
    medi'n gymmodol,
  Heb ofni estronol lais drwg,
Na neb i'n niweidio ni wed'yn,
  Na gelyn i'n dychryn, a'i dŵg.

Pa dafod all osod mor llesol,
  Fendithiol, ddefnyddiol, i ni
Yn ymborth i'n cnawd yw y cnydau,
  Sef ffrwythau pur
      ydau heb ri'?
Cynnaliaeth, sef toraeth naturiol
  O ymborth daearol, i'r dyn,
Mae'r Arglwydd mor rhwydd yn eu rhoddi
  Eleni i borthi pob un.

Now, beloved ones, O bring!
  To the Lord the competence of praise,
Express, sing together glory,
  To him belongs the
      possession of the praise;
He is worthy of the good name of his merit,
  The acclaim and the honour,
      through the weather,
For the good substance of comforting bread,
    And the opportunity so
        ordered to treat it.

He loaded the earth, doubtless,
  With crops of very good grains;
He arranged, he ordained, mild weather,
  In time, for strengthening for the grain;
And delightful, fair moment to gather it,
  To get it to our tents without spoiling,
As good, rich, tasty food
  For thousands, without
      spoiling for a moment.

He could give sultriness, and pestilence,
  To fill us with sadness and terror,
Or to beat it with tempestuous winds,
  And the earth wet with rain;
Or send some abundance of terrible
  Caterpillars to surround us as a swarm,
And let them beat our nurturing,
  And make our nourishment a mire.

But this was not, then, the will,
  Or good intention, of our God, -
Not an intention to turn the
    land to poverty,
  But an intention for feeding
      the necessities of life;
He reined, restrained, the tribe,
  From making a blight for us;
Now we have a sufficiency
  Of pure, wonderful fruits without number.

Apart from giving support abundantly,
  He also gave peace to us;
To get daily long weather so quiet,
  Without the call to war as a number;
To get to sow and get
    to reap satisfactorily,
  Without fearing an evil, alien voice,
Nor anything to harm us afterwards,
  Nor an enemy to terrify us, and take it.

What tongue can set out how beneficially,
  Blessedly, usefully, to us
As sustenance for our flesh are the crops,
  That is the pure fruits
      of grains without number?
Sustenance, that is the natural abundance
  Of earthly food, for the man,
The Lord is so generous in giving them
  This year to feed every one.