Death's loud Alarm: OR, A perfect description of the frailty of Man's life, with some admonitions to warn all men and Women to repentance.  
To the tune of, Aim not too high.  

 

LAment your sins, good people all lament,  
You plainly fee the Messenger is sent,  
I mean grim death and he doth play his part,  
He stands prepared to strike you to the heart:  
How suddenly alas there's none doth know,  
We all must yield to Death ' this death we owe.   

Our time is short we have not long to stay,  
We are not sure to live one night nor day,  
No, nor one hour or minute which is less,  
As God doth please our time is more or less:  
We are all mortal that live here below,  
And all must dye, that is the debt we owe.   

No strength nor valour can this death prevent,  
Nor can fair beauty hinder his intent,  
Both rich and poor must all prepare to dye,  
No King nor Subject can proud death deny:  
Death fears no friend nor doth he dread a foe,  
We all must dye that is the debt we owe.   

Behold and see all you that smile at death,  
You plainly see how fickle is your breath,  
To day alive, to morrow clad in clay,  
Therefore prepare, repent, weep, fast and pray:  
Our sins do cause the Lord to send us woe,  
We all must die, that is the debt we owe.   
 

Thy brother's dead and buried in the ground,  
Prepare thyself, the mournful Bell doth sound,  
The grave stands open ready to receive,  
Whom death doth strike, prepare to take thy leave.  
The day nor hour there is none that doth know,  
We all must die, that is the debt we owe.   

Then why do we so vainly spend our time,  
And unto wickedness so much incline?  
We live as though we never meant to die,  
Spending our dayès most lewd and wantonly:  
All wickedness doth daily in us grow,  
Yet all must die, that is the debt we owe.   

In pride and lust we daily do abound,  
What wicked sins but in us may be found?  
Wrath and revenge, with beastly gluttony,  
With drunkenness deceit and flattery:  
All this appears apparently in show.  
Yet all must die, that is the debt we owe.   

The hearts of men are grown as hard as stone,  
They'll not give ear unto the grief and moan,  
Which their poor brethren make being oppressed,  
Take heed hard heart, for death will thee arrest:  
And then 'tis doubtful will begin thy woe,  
For all must die, that is the debt we owe.    

The second part, To the same tune.  
 

IT is our sins doth cause God's wrath to fall,  
For we offend even generally all,  
Both rich and poor with young and old also:  
Let us repent, lest God increase our woe.  
If we repent the Lord will mercy show,  
We all must die, that is the debt we owe.   

Some seem to murmur and to make complaint,  
But they are those whose faith is weak and faint,  
They do not truly fear nor serve the Lord,  
Nor do they note his blessed holy Word,  
Upon repentance he will mercy show:  
But all must die, that is the debt we owe.   

God's mercy goes before his justice still,  
He's always sure to punish us for ill,  
He lets us scape in hope we may amend,  
Thus he's to us a father and a friend:  
But we to him ungracelesse children grow,  
Yet all must die, that is the debt we owe.   

What can a father do more for a son,  
Then our good Father and our God hath done?  
He made us from the brittle earth and clay,  
And gave us breath, yet him we disobey:  
O wretched creatures why should we do so,  
We all must die, that is the debt we owe.   

Over all creatures man a ruler is,  
Hath not the Lord done much in doing this?  
O think on this and praise him for the same,  
Give laud and glory to his holy name,  
All men that's living aught for to do so,  
We all must die, that is the debt we owe.   

But we forget our duties to our God,  
Wherefore he now doth scourge us with his rod,  
His punishment we now are like to feel,  
He shoots his Arrows from his Bow of steel:  
Which Bow doth seem to strike a deadly blow,  
We all must die, that is the debt we owe.   

What father always will forgive his child,  
That disobays his will and is most vild?  
Correction doth befit a wicked son,  
'Tis true we must confess the same each one:  
Now God corrects us by one blow,  
In hope thereby, that we will better grow.   

Then let's amend our lives most speedily,  
We may live long or suddenly may die,  
Let us prepare ourselves for to repent,  
It cannot long ti●e ere our glass be spent:  
Our time is short, for certain it is so,  
We all must die, that is the debt we owe.   

Happy's that man that is for death prepared,  
Although he die heaven is his reward,  
He lives to die, and dies to live again,  
In joys eternally for to remain:  
Thrice blessed's he that lives and dieth so,  
We all must die, that is the debt we owe.   

Then seeing all must die as that we must,  
While we live here, in God lets put our trust,  
Then we shall die to live with him in joy,  
And happiness which never will decay:  
Let all true Christians wish it may be so,  
For all must die, that is the debt we owe.   

Look not upon thy pleasures and thy pride,  
But for thy silly soul do thou provide,  
Mind not this world 'tis vain and transitory,  
Mind heaven on high which is a place of glory  
Unto which place Lord grant that we may go,  
When we do die: Amen, let all say so.   R.  
FINIS.   

Printed at London for john Wright the Young and are to be sold at his shop at the upper end of the Old-Bayley.