"Forward. "
Ymlaen, ymlaen, chwi filwyr Duw

8,8,8,8,8,4

Advance, advance, ye hosts of God,

Unfurl the standard stained with blood:

Soon shall ye wave the palm on high.

Soon raise the shout of "victory,"

And chaplets wear that never die --

The world is yours!

xxxvii love
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