Torf o'mrodyr sydd yn gorwedd
Many dear ones are departed
To the grave's dark silent land:
I shall soon receive the summons
There to lie amid the band;
Where they hear not
Any more sad earth's complaints.
Blest are they who have expired
In the Lord, supremely blest!
In the port so oft desired
They for ever safely rest.
How much better,
There to sing than sigh with us!