Paham yr ŵylwn am y rhai?

Paham yr ŵylwn am y rhai
  Sydd wedi cyrraedd fry, heb fraw,
Yn rhydd oddi wrth bob poen a bai?
  Maent eto'n fyw, yr ochor draw.

Er holl flinderau'u
    marwol daith,
  A themtesiynau ar bob llaw,
Er creigiau serth a rhiwiau maith,
  Maent eto'n fyw, yr ochor draw.

Ar ôl eu taflu o don i don,
  Drwy hynt eu mordaith
      yma a thraw,
Yn awr o fewn y porthladd llon
  Maent eto'n fyw, yr ochor draw.

Yn nyfroedd yr Iorddonen ddu
  Yr Archoffeiriad oedd gerllaw,
I ddal eu pen a'u dwyn yn hy
  Drwy'i hymchwydd oll i'r ochor draw.

Os rhoed eu cyrff i'r ddaear ddu
  I orffwys hyd y farn a ddaw;
Ehedodd eu heneidiau fry -
  Maent eto'n fyw, yr ochor draw.

A phwy a ŵyr nad yndynt byth
  Yn teimlo gyda ni islaw;
A bod ein llwydd yn rhan ddi-lyth
  O'u mwyniant hwy, yr ochor draw?

A phwy a ŵyr nad yndynt mwy
  Yn disgwyl am y dydd a ddaw,
Pan ddelom ninnau gyda hwy
  I foli'r Oen yr ochor draw?

Ac os yw'r llysiau ar eu bedd
  Yn gwywo, er y gwlith a'r glaw -
Y palmwydd gwyrdd a ddygant hwy
  Ni wywant byth yr ochor draw.

A phan gyrhaeddom Salem fry,
  A heirdd gynteddau'r nef uwchlaw,
Cawn yno gwrdd
    â'n brodyr cu -
  Sydd eto'n fyw yr ochor draw.

Why do we weep for those
  Who have arrived above, without terror,
Free from every pain and fault?
  They are living still, on yonder side.

Despite all the griefs of their
    mortal journey,
  And temptations on every hand,
Despite steep rocks and vast hills,
  They are living still, on yonder side.

After their being flung from wave to wave,
  Through the course of their voyage
      here and there,
Now within the cheerful harbour
  They are living still, on yonder side.

In the waters of the black Jordan
  The High Priest was at hand,
To hold up their heads and lead them boldly
  Through all the swelling to yonder side.

If their bodies were put in the black earth
  To lie until the judgment to come;
Their souls flew up -
  They are living still, on yonder side.

And who knows that they forever
  Sympathise with us below;
And that our leader is an unfailing part
  Of their enjoyment, on yonder side?

And who knows that they are evermore
  Waiting for the coming day,
When we also may come with them
  To praise the Lamb on yonder side?

And if the vegetation on their grave
  Wither, despite the dew and the rain -
The green palms that they bear
  Shall never wither on yonder side?

And when we reach Salem up there
  And the beautiful courts of heaven above,
There we may get to meet
    with our dear brothers -
  Who are live still on the yonder side.

Why do we mourn departing friends
  Or shake at death's alarms?
'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends
  To call them to his arms.




Are we not tending upward too
  As fast as time can move?
Nor would we wish the hours more slow
  To keep us from our love.




Why should we tremble to convey
  Their bodies to the tomb?
There the dear flesh of Jesus lay,
  And left a long perfume.




The graves of all his saints he bless'd,
  And soften'd every bed;
Where should the dying members rest,
  But with the dying head?




Thence he arose, ascending high,
  And shew'd our feet the way;
Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly
  At the great rising day.




Then let the last loud trumpet sound,
  And bid our kindred rise,
Awake, ye nations under ground,
  Ye saints, ascend the skies.