Great Britain's Arlarm to Drowsy Sinners in Destress  
Being a Rule for all sorts of people to follow in these distracted and dangerous Times: Showing the Judgements which hang over our heads for Sin, and the way by Repentance, to avoid the same. Very good and necessary for all sorts of people to peruse.  
All you that do this Alarm hear,  
Strive to live well, and God to fear.  
The Tune is, Aim not too high.  
 

ROuse up dull Sinners all with one accord,  
With prayers & tears now call upon the Lord,  
Security hath lulled us fast asleep.  
When as we have most cause to mourn and weep.   

Remember Man, thy time it is but short,  
Then of the same thou shouldst not make a sport;  
Lest thou by sudden death be snatched away,  
To give account at the great judgement-day.   

Whilst thou in prime of youth dost spend thy days,  
And takest pleasure in thy wicked ways:  
Be well advised, and think upon thy doom,  
That young and old must all to judgement come.   

So soon as in the morning you awake,  
Unto your Lord by Prayer yourselves betake:  
Then to thy labour fall if thou art poor,  
And God will bless thy basket and thy store.   

Defraud no man although thou ● be in want  
But be content, although thy stock be stane,  
For goods ill gotten will consume away,  
And leave a Curse that will remain for aye.   

Unto thy honest Neighbours still be kind,  
And sure therein great comfort thou shalt find  
A friend will stick when Riches they are gone,  
Therefore endeavour to provide for one.   

If thou art blest with Children at the board,  
Be sure you bring them up to serve the Lord:  
And for a portion God he will provide.  
And give a blessing to their Souls beside.   

A Child ill-natured proves a grievous Curse,  
His wicked courses will offend thee worse:  
A twig will bend when it is young and weak,  
But being old and stubborn it will break.   
 

Fly from all sin, as from a Serpent's sting,  
Much harm to Soul and body it will bring:  
When sinful pleasures are blown o'er and passed,  
Then grief and sorrow doth remain at last.   

What pleasure hath the Drunkard in his wine,  
To make himself far worse than any Swine:  
His wealth consumes away, if wealth he have,  
And surfeits sends him to his loathed Grave.   

He that on Harlots spends his gold and pelf,  
He neither values credit nor himself:  
Until diseases brings him to his end,  
And then it is too late for to amend.   

The Swearer he doth damn his Soul in vain,  
No benefit thereby that he doth gain:  
So that he doth fulfil his base desire,  
He never thinks of Hell's eternal fire.   

The sin of Pride amongst us is too rife,  
Who should exceed in bravery is the strife:  
They do not think that one day die they must,  
And then their Pride is laid within the dust.   

The covetous Miser makes his Gold his God,  
Whilst others wants it, he doth plot and plod  
To fill his Coffers whatsoever befall,  
Until at last he gets the Devil and all.   

These are the sins, besides a many more,  
That brings God's judgements down upon us sore  
And makes him smite us with his heavy Rod,  
Because we do offend our gracious God.   

Lord turn thy wrath away from us again,  
Lest under thy displeasure we remain:  
For thy fierce anger we have felt of late,  
Yet it does not our heinous sins abate.   

With Plague and Fire we have suffered sore,  
And now with Wars our Land is vexed more:  
These judgements for our sins the Lord doth send,  
And worse may come, unless our lives we mend.   

For blessed be God, no Famine we have felt,  
The Lord hath mercifully with us dealt:  
But if we once provoke his wrath again,  
We may have cause for hunger to complain.   

Once more, I say, O sinners now awake,  
And all your heinous sins in time forsake▪  
Who knows but that the Lord will hear our prayer▪  
And show us mercy for unfeigned tears.   

And let each one that reads what here is penned,  
Strive night and day their lives for to amend:  
That God in mercy all our Souls may save,  
When as we fall into the silent Gra●e.    

Printed for P. Brooksbys at the Harp and Ball in Pie-corner, near West Smithfield.