Cenhadon hedd [cānt/gānt] ddwyn ar frys

Cenhadon hedd cānt ddwyn ar frys
  Efengyl gras ein Duw,
I bob rhyw fan
    yn mhellder byd
  Lle triga dynolryw.

Mynegant am y cymmod gwiw,
  A ddaeth trwy bwrcas drud;
A'r ffynnon hyfryd sy'n glanhau
  Aflendid mwya'r byd.

Fe lonna'r gwyllt Farbariad gwael,
  Fe lama'r Ethiop du,
Wrth glywed am anfeidrol Iawn
  A gaed ar Galfari.

Ein rhoddion mān a rown yn rhwydd,
  A'n gweddi dlawd i'r nef,
I gael paganiaid tywyll, pell,
  Yn dorf i'w deyrnas ef.

Daw myrdd myrddiynau rif y dail -
  O lwythau'r anial dir,
I moliannu Adda'r ail
  Ar swn yr udgorn clir.

Emissaries of peace get to bear hurriedly
  The gospel of the grace of our God,
To every kind of place
    in the extremity of the world
  Where humankind dwells.

They communicate about the worthy covenant
  Which came through a costly purpose;
And the delightful fount which is cleansing
  The greatest uncleanness of the world.

It will cheer the wild, base Barbarians,
  The black Ethiopian will leap,
On hearing about an immeasurable Satisfaction
  Which was got on Calvary.

Our small gifts we give freely,
  And our poor prayer to heaven,
To get dark, distant pagans,
  As a crowd to his kingdom.

A myriad myriads numerous as foliage will come -
  From the tribes of the desert land,
To praise the second Adam
  At the sound of the clear trumpet.