Yr wybren lydan lân uwchben

Yr wybren lydan, lân, uwchben,
Yngyd â thyner
    lesni'r ne,
  Y bydoedd fry, yn wych eu gwawr,
  A ddatgan glod
      eu Crëwr mawr;
Yr haul ar hynt o ddydd i ddydd
Am allu Duw yn sôn y sydd,
  Cyhoeddant trwy'r
      holl wledydd draw
  Weithredoedd hollalluog law.

Pan fyddo'r hwyr yn llwydo'r nen,
Fe welir gwedd y lleuad wen;
  Bob nos mae'n sôn
      yng nghlyw y llawr
  Am hanes gwaith y Crëwr mawr;
O'i chylch y mae y sêr di-ri',
Ac ar eu tro'r planedau fry;
  Cyhoeddant oll heb ball ynghyd
  Ei glodydd ef hyd eitha'r byd.

Er teithio o'r
    holl fydoedd fry
Yn ddistaw gylch ein daear ni,
  Ac er nad oes na
      llais na llef
  Ymhlith holl lu planedau'r nef,
Fe dystiant hwy i ddeall dyn,
A gorfoleddant yn gytûn,
  Gan ganu byth yn ddisglair gôr:
  Y llaw a'n gwnaeth
      yn llaw yr Iôr.

The broad, clean sky, overhead,
Together with the tender
    blueness of heaven,
  The worlds above, brilliant their dawn,
  Declare the praise of
      their great Creator;
The sun on a course from day to day
About God's power are mentioning,
  They publish throughout
      all the lands yonder
  The deeds of an almighty hand.

When the evening makes the sky grey,
The countenance of the white moon is seen;
  Every night it makes mention
      in earth's hearing
  Of the story of the great Creator;
Around there are the innumerable stars,
And in their turn the planets above;
  They all publish without fail together
  His praises to the ends of the world.

Although travelling from
    all the worlds above
Silently around our earth,
  And although there is
      neither voice nor cry
  Amongst all the host of heaven's planets,
They testify to the understanding of man,
And they are jubilant in agreement,
  While singing forever as a shining choir:
  "The hand that made us is
      the hand of the Lord."

The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue
    ethereal sky,
  And spangled heavens, a shining frame
  Their great Original
      proclaim.
Th'unwearied sun, from day to day,
Does his creator's powers display,
  And publishes to
      every land
  The work of an almighty hand.

Soon as the evening shades prevail
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
  And nightly to the
      listening earth
  Repeats the story of her birth;
While all the stars that round her burn
And all the planets in their turn,
  Confirm the tidings as they roll,
  And spread the truth from pole to pole.

What though in solemn
    silence all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball?
  What though no real
      voice nor sound
  Amid the radiant orbs be found?
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
  Forever singing as they shine,
  The hand that made
      us is divine.