A Caveat for Young-men.
Young-men Repentance do delay,
And think not of their Dying day,
Till Death doth come and with his Dart,
Doth pierce the Youngmans stubborn heart.
Tune, Aim not too high.
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GIve ear to me you youngmen whilst I write
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Nothing but truth, hoping to bring to light
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Your secret thoughts which in your Bosoms lie,
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And let you know all flesh is born to die,
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The young as well as old must to the Grave,
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Both King and Peasant must this portion have,
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Old men must die, then youngmen call to mind
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For certain you must not stay long behind.
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Then lead your lives as Christians ought to do,
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You do not know when Death shall come for you,
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Today, before to morrow you may die,
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And your immortal soul from you may flie.
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Trust not for to repent when you are old,
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You have no Lease of life, then why so bold,
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When pale fac'd Death shall give the blow,
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There's no redress, down to the Grave you go.
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Oh wretched man is he whom Death shall take
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E're he's aware, and hath his peace to make,
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Then young and old prepare your selves for death,
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Your time is short, repent while you have breath.
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But youngmen they are apt for to defer
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Repentance to the last, herein they err,
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And Death doth often snatch youngmen away,
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Turning to dismal night, there hopd for day.
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The middle aged man Death doth not spare,
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Tis needfull then that all men should prepare,
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For Death is so impartiall that he'l strike
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At young and old and middle age alike.
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And he that is prepared he need not fear,
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For he is not dismayed when Death draws near,
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His soul is happy that his peace hath made,
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And covets in the Dust for to be layed.
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How many thousands is there in this Land,
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That never thinks on Death till tis at hand,
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When on their Death-beds languishing they lie,
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Their souls are frightned, they'r afraid to die.
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Death seems to them a grim and ghastly sight,
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The sins wherein they once did take delight,
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Now seem most dreadful, while the Grave's half made,
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The soul prepar'd, of Death is not afraid.
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Young men suppose they'r active, stout and strong,
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Sure Death will not surprize them while they'r young,
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When theyr old their sins they will repent
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But oft too late their follies they Lament,
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Why should fond man forget his chiefest end,
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For which God did into the world him send,
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And not provide against the hour of Death,
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Since certain tis that it shall stop their breath.
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The greatest Monarch must be forced to yield,
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But the time when, to no man is reveal'd,
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This year or day may be the last that we
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For ought we know may ever live to see.
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That man had better never to have been,
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Than live in Vanity and dye in Sin,
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For as the Tree doth fall so it doth lie,
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And sin brings sorrow for a certainty.
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Let not vain pleasure have the chiefest room
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In your poor hearts, lest it procures your Doom,
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For worldly pleasures alwaies disagree
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With Heavenly things of immortality.
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And those who for their souls take special care,
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Mind not the things whom sinners count m[ore] rar[e]
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But set their whole delight on things above,
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Things that are well deserving of their Love.
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And prize that thing call'd your immortal soul,
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Least you for ever after do condoul,
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Think not to find Repentance in the Grave,
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But while you live study your souls to save.
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A day is coming when you must account
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For all misdeeds which daily do amount,
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To such a sum of sins none can forgive,
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But God alone who doth for ever live.
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When on your Pillow you do lay your head,
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Ere morning comes perhaps you may be dead,
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Then make your peace before death gives the blow
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Tis happy for you if you can do so.
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And yet fond world you'l say you'r loath to leave,
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These thoughts do but all mortal men deceive,
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Theres nothing here that's worthy of your love,
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Seek after blessings flowing from above.
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