Death's loud allarum: or, A perfect description of the frailty of mans life with some admonitions to warne all men and women to repentance. To the tune of, Aime not too high. Crimsal, Richard. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A19003 of text S108761 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 5420). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 7 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 2 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A19003 STC 5420 ESTC S108761 99844417 99844417 9228 2240888460

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A19003) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 9228) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1627:13) Death's loud allarum: or, A perfect description of the frailty of mans life with some admonitions to warne all men and women to repentance. To the tune of, Aime not too high. Crimsal, Richard. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. for Iohn Wright the Young[er] and are to be sold at his shop at the upper end of the Old-Bayley, Printed at London : [1635?] Signed at the end: R.[C.]., i.e. Richard Crimsal. Publication date and fact that John Wright is the younger from STC. Verse - "Lament your sinnes, good people all lament,". In two parts; woodcuts at head of each part. Formerly also STC 20568. Imperfect: trimmed affecting author's initials and publisher's name. Identified as STC 20568 on UMI microfilm set "Early English books, 1475-1640". Reproductions of the original in the British Library. eng Ballads, English -- 17th century. eebo Death's loud allarum: or, A perfect description of the frailty of mans life, with some admonitions to warne all men and women to repentance. To the tu Crimsal, Richard 1635 2 1199 1 0 0 0 0 0 8.34 B The rate of 8.34 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the B category of texts with fewer than 10 defects per 10,000 words. 2002-05 Assigned for keying and markup 2002-07 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2002-08 Sampled and proofread 2002-08 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2002-10 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
Death's loud Allarum : OR , A perfect description of the frailty of Mans life , with some admonitions to warne all men and Women to repentance . To the tune of , Aime not too high .

LAment your sinnes , good people all lament , You plainely fee the Messenger is sent , I meane grim death and he doth play his part , He stands prepar'd to strike you to the heart : How suddenly alas there 's none doth know , We all must yéeld 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 houre or minut which is lesse , As God doth please our time is more or lesse : We are all mortall that live here below , And all must dye , that is the debt we owe . No strength nor valour can this death prevent , Nor can faire beauty hinder his intent , Both rich and poore must all prepare to dye , No King nor Subject can proud death denye : Death feares no friend nor doth he dread a foe , We all must dye that is the debt we owe . Behold and sée all you that smile at death , You plainely sée how fickle is your breath , To day alive , to morrow clad in clay , Therefore prepare , repent , wéep , fast and pray : Our sinnes doe cause the Lord to send us woe , We all must die , that is the debt we owe .

Thy brother's dead and buryed in the ground , Prepare thy self , the mournfull Bell doth sound , The grave stands open ready to receive , Whom death doth strike , prepare to take thy leave . The day nor houre there is none that doth know , We all must die , that is the debt we owe . Then why doe we so vainely spend our time , And unto wickednesse so much incline ? We live as though we never meant to die , Spending our dayès most lewd and wantonly : All wickednesse doth daily in us grow , Yet all must die , that is the debt we owe . In pride and lust we daily doe abound , What wicked sinnes but in us may be found ? Wrath and revenge , with beastly gluttony , With drunkennesse deceit and flattery : All this appeares apparantly in show . Yet all must die , that is the debt we owe . The hearts of men are growne as hard as stone , They 'l not give eare unto the griefe and mone , Which their poore brethren make being opprest , Take héed hard heart , for death will thee arrest : And then 't is doubtfull will begin thy woe , For all must die , that is the debt we owe .
The second part , To the same tune .

IT is our sinnes doth cause Gods wrath to fall , For we offend ev'n generally all , Both rich and poore with yong and old also : Let us repent , least God increase our woe . If we repent the Lord will mercy show , We all must die , that is the debt we owe . Some séeme to murmur and to make complaint , But they are those whose faith is weake and faint , They doe not truly feare nor serve the Lord , Nor doe they note his blessed holy Word , Upon repentance he will mercy show : But all must die , that is the debt we owe . Gods mercy goes before his justice still , He 's alwayes 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 doe more for a sonne , Then our good Father and our God hath done ? He made us from the brittle earth and clay , And gave vs breath , yet him we disobay : O wretched creatures why should we doe 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 thinke on this and praise him for the same , Give laud and glory to his holy name , All men that 's living ought for to doe 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 féele , He shoots his Arrowes from his Bow of stéele : Which Bow doth séeme to strike a deadly blow , We all must die , that is the debt we owe . What father alwayes will forgive his child , That disobays his will and is most vild ? Correction doth befit a wicked son , 'T is true we must confesse the same each one : Now God correct's us by one blow , In hope thereby , that we will better grow . Then let 's amend our lives most spéedily , We may live long or suddenly may die , Let us prepare our selves for to repent , It cannot long ti●e ere our glasse be spent : Our time is short , for certaine it is so , We all must die , that is the debt we owe . Happy 's that man that is for death prepar'd , Although he die heaven is his reward , He lives to die , and dies to live againe , In joyes eternally for to remaine : Thrice blessed's he that lives and dieth so , We all must die , that is the debt we owe . Then séeing 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 happinesse which never will decay : Let all true Christians wish it may be so , For all must die , that is the debt we owe . Looke not upon thy pleasures and thy pride , But for thy silly soule doe thou provide , Minde not this world 't is vaine and transitory , Minde heaven on high which is a place of glory Unto which place Lord grant that we may goe , When we doe die : Amen , let all say so . R.
FINIS .

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