When Sodom’s sin, an awful cry, Had reached Jehovah’s ear, Vindictive wrath was wont to fly, But righteous Lot was there. This chosen saint, that God approved, When wrath and terror flies, Shall from destruction be removed, And live when Sodom dies. Zoar, the spot ordained of God, To which the saint must flee, Stands as a type of Jesus’ blood, That sets the guilty free. But why should Heav’n’s indulgent care, Amidst the general woe, A single saint, a sinner spare, Whose heart was loath to go? Haste hither, haste, the angel calls, The city’s full in view; Till thou art safe within her walls, Thy God can nothing do. Herein discriminating grace Shone with refulgent ray, Though he was loath to quit the place. It made him haste away. For sins, as black as Sodom’s were, There’s pardon with our God; Large as His tender mercies are, And rich as Jesus’ blood.