Here you will find the Poem Lot In Sodom of poet John Newton
How hurtful was the choice of Lot, Who took up his abode Because it was a fruitful spot With them who feared not God! A pris'ner he was quickly made, Bereaved of all his store; And, but for Abraham's timely aid, He had returned no more. Yet still he seemed resolved to stay As if it were his rest; Although their sins from day to day His righteous soul distressed. Awhile he stayed with anxious mind, Exposed to scorn and strife; At last he left his all behind, And fled to save his life. In vain his sons-in-law he warned, They thought he told his dreams; His daughters too, of them had learned, And perished in the flames. His wife escaped a little way, But died for looking back: Does not her case to pilgrims say, Beware of growing slack? Yea; Lot himself could ling'ring stand, Though vengeance was in view; 'Twas mercy plucked him by the hand, Or he had perished too. The doom of Sodom wilt be ours If to the earth we cleave; Lord quicken all our drowsy pow'rs, To flee to thee and live.