Sweet Singers of Wales

Here I know myself a stranger,

And my native country lies

Far beyond the ocean's danger,

In the lands of Paradise:

Storms of trial blowing keenly

Drove me on this foreign strand;

Come, O South-wind, blow serenely,

Speed me to my Fatherland.

Though the voyage should be stormy,

Though the raging billows foam;

Even were the worst before me,

I shall sometime be at home:

Waves and seas are strong; but stronger

Is the word of God than all;

Trusting Him I fear no longer,

Safely in His hands I fall.

Now the air is full of balm

With the fragrance of the land;

And the breezes clear and calm

Tell of Paradise at hand:

Come, ye much-desired regions,

With the best of joy in store:

Country of the singing legions,

Let me reach thy restful shore!