Escape for thy life; look not behind thee, neither stay thou in all the plain; escape to the mountain, lest thou be consumed.@Genesis 19:17

From Hymns for Times of Trouble and Persecution, by John and Charles Wesley, second edition, enlarged (London: Strahan, 1744), pages 16-18. This source does not give the author’s name, but it seems likely the hymn is by Charles Wesley.

Bangor (Toronto) anonymous, in the Methodist Hymn and Tune Book (Toronto, Canada: Methodist Book and Publishing House, 1894), number 199 (🔊 pdf nwc).

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Charles Wesley (1707-1788)

Fly, to the mountains fly;
Sinners, on Christ rely!
Our strong mountain is the Lord:
He keeps off th’invading bands,
He averts th’impending sword;
Christ the Christian’s fortress stands.

Happy who trust in Him,
Almighty to redeem:
Neither wars nor plagues they fear,
Public ills they calmly meet,
Smile at desolation near,
Trample death beneath their feet.

But woes, redoubled woes
Attend the Savior’s foes:
Worldly men and things who love,
God, His things and people hate;
O what sorrows will they prove,
Crushed by all His judgments’ weight!

Woe to the souls at ease,
The slaves of foul excess;
Charged with surfeiting, or wine,
Drunk with pleasure, or with care,
Big with earthly low design,
Fond of their attachments there.

Secure on earth who dwell,
They all His plagues shall feel;
Senseless, till the day oppress;
Thoughtless, till the ruin come:
Pangs shall then their spirits seize,
Earnest of their final doom.

But we Thy warning take,
We, Lord, the world forsake:
Thou hast kindly said, Beware,
Armed us by Thy word of grace,
Told us of the fatal snare
Spread for all the earth-born race.

Thy judgments we revere,
Thy speaking rod we hear.
Thou shalt keep our cautioned heart
Free from care, from pleasure free:
Thou alone our portion art,
All our treasure is in Thee.

Thee let us still obey,
And always watch and pray;
Pray against the sore distress,
Plagues, that on the world shall fall,
Counted, through Thy righteousness,
Worthy to escape them all.

Worthy esteemed through grace,
To stand before Thy face;
Called to see our judge appear,
Son of Man, with glory crowned;
Glad th’archangel’s voice to hear,
Shouting at the trumpet sound.

O wouldst Thou now descend,
And all our sufferings end!
Hear the Bride and Spirit pray,
Hasten, Lord, the general doom;
Bring the great tremendous day,
Come away, to judgment come!