Mi wn fod i'r saint mor fawr yn eu braint

Mi wn fod i'r saint,
    mor fawr yn eu braint!
  Oes goronau gan Dduw yn y nef,
Ond O! ai gwir yw
    fod i'r ieuanc a'r gwyw,
  Eu coronau'n ystor ganddo Ef?

      Oes, oes, oes!
      Mae i'r ieuainc
          goronau'n y nef:
        Os y profant wrth fyw,
            eu cariad at Dduw,
      Mae i'r ieuainc
          gononau'n y nef.

Câ'r ieuainc byth fyw,
    yn mharadwys fy Nuw,
  Yno'i ganu cân
      Moses a'r Oen,
Yn nhelynau y plant,
    melus fawl rydd pob tant,
  I'r Gwaredwr uwch gofid a phoen.

Caiff marion y byd,
    a'r tylawd isel-fryd -
  Y plentyn, yr ieuanc â'r dyn -
Os yn credu yn Nuw,
    fyn'd i'r nefoedd i fyw,
  Ac i wisgo 'u coronau bob un.

I know that for the saints,
    so great in their privilege!
  There are crowns from God in heaven,
And oh, is it true,
    that for the young and the wizened,
  Their crowns are in store by Him?

      Yes, yes, yes!
      There are for the young
          crowns in heaven:
        If they prove by living,
            their love to God,
      There are for the young
          crowns in heaven.

The young will get to live forever,
    in the paradise of my God,
  There to sing the song
      of Moses and the Lamb,
In the harps of the children,
    sweet praise gives every string,
  To the Deliverer above grief and pain.

The great of the world will get
    and the lowly-minded poor -
  The child, the youth and the man -
If believing in God,
    go to heaven to live,
  And to wear their crowns every one.

I know there's a crown
    for the saints of renown,
  And for saints whose good deeds are unsung;
But oh say, is it true,
    if their days are but few,
  That a crown is laid up for the young?

      Yes yes, yes,
      I know there's a crown
          for the young;
        If their lives daily prove
          that the Saviour they love,
      I know there's a crown
          for the young.

The youthful shall stand
    in that beautiful land,
  And the song of salvation
      shall sing;
And the infant of days
    strike its harp in the praise
  Of Immanuel, its Saviour and King.

The noble of birth,
    and the poor of the earth,
  Both the man and the youth and the child,
If in Jesus they trust,
    when they rise from the dust
  Shall be crowned in the land undefiled.