Trwy ddrain a drysni mae ein taith

Trwy ddrain a drysni mae ein taith,
  Ond dringo fynu 'rym er hyn;
Anghofir y blinderau maith,
  Ond cyrhaedd fry i Sion fryn.

Mae wrth y pyrth angylion mwyn
  I'n gwawdd yn addfwyn mewn i'r nef;
Mae'r Iesu'n croesaw yno'i hun
  Y pererinion blin i dref.

Fry ar flodeuog wyrddlas fryn,
  Ein henaid blin gaiff eiste' i lawr,
A chyfri'n llawen y pryd hyn,
  Ein teithiau trwy'r anialwch mawr.

Gwagedd ni lygra'n tafod glân,
  A phethau gwael ni flina'n clust;
Anfeidrol ras fydd byth ein cân,
  A'i gwrando'n llawen
      y bydd Crist.

- - - - -

Trwy ddrain a d'rysni mae ein taith,
  Ond dringo i fyny'r y'm er hyn;
Anghofir y gofidiau maith,
  'Rol cyrhaedd fry i Sïon fryn.

Mae wrth y pyrth angylion mwyn
  I'n gwa'dd i heirdd
      drigfanau'r nef;
Mae'r Iesu'n croesaw yno'i hun
  Y pererinion blin i dref.

Fry ar flodeuog wyrddlas fryn,
  Ein henaid blin gaiff eiste' i lawr,
A chyfri'n llawen y pryd hyn,
  Ein teithiau trwy'r anialwch mawr.

Gwagedd ni lygra'n tafod glân,
  A phethau gwael ni
      flina'n clyw;
Anfeidrol ras fydd byth ein cân,
  Uwchlaw gofidiau o bob rhyw.

Through thorns and briars is our journey,
  But climbing up are we despite this;
The vast distresses are to be forgotten,
  Once arriving up Zion hill.

At the portals are dear angels
  To invite us very tenderly into heaven;
Jesus is welcoming there himself
  The weary pilgrims home.

Up on the flowery green hill,
  Our weary soul will get to sit down,
And count as joyful at that time,
  Our journeys through the great desert.

Vanity shall not corrupt our pure tongue,
  And base things shall not vex our ear;
Infinite grace shall be our song,
  And listening to it joyfully
      shall be Christ.

- - - - -

Through thorns and briars is our journey,
  But climbing up are we despite this;
The vast griefs are to be forgotten,
  After arriving up Zion hill.

At the portals are dear angels
  To welcome us to the beautiful
      dwellings of heaven;
Jesus himself is welcoming
  The weary pilgrims home.

Up on a flowery green hill,
  Our weary soul will get to sit down,
And count as joyful then,
  Our journey through the great desert.

Vanity shall not corrupt our pure tongue,
  And base things shall not
      vex our hearing;
Infinite grace shall be our song,
  Above griefs of every kind.