Broadside entitled 'Address, Or Warning to the Young'

Transcription

Address,

Or Warning to the Young,

By the unfortunate Men, now under Sentence of Death, who
are to be Executed on Wednesday the 3d of November next,
for Various crimes; published as a warning to the rising gene-
ration, to beware of the first beginnings of evil.

O hope ! thou sweet celestial spring,
Of human bliss below,
Who can no hopes of comfort bring,
To mitigate our woe.

Within this dark and dreary cell,
With grief and care opprest,
Our sins and sorrows to bewvil,
And thoughtless follies past.

Fast bound in iron fetters strong,
We wait for heaven's decree,
Till the appointed period come,
When death shall set us free.

O that our crimes may be forgiven,
Before the gracious throne of heaven;
May mercy there appear in store,
To save us when life's storm is o'er.

A few more hours, our lives are o'er,
And we on earth shall be no more ;
O may we pray, while here we live,
That Jesus may our souls receive.

For when we leave this house of clay,
We cannot then repent and pray ;
All earthly things are then in vain,
And we are doom'd to bliss or pain.

All wicked men we now do tell,
To shun the road that leads to hell;
For if they do not shortly mend,
They'll come to some untimely end.

If we had stopt in our career,
To death we had not been so near;
We had not been brought to public view
For punishment, and warning too.

If our example will not move,
Nor turn them to redeeming love,
Almighty vengeance will be shown,
And all vile plans and deeds made known.

O King of Glory, might and power,
Salvation send in our last hour ;
And grant that we may dwell with Thec,
Throughout a blest eternity.

Dear, countrymen, a warning take,
And all your lawless crinnes forsake,
At our untimely fate take heed,
Who now repent each wicked deed.

The sad example keep in mind,
Of we poor mortals now confin'd,
And doom'd we are, hanged to be,
Upon the fatal gallows tree.

For our unjust dishonest ways,
Disgrace and shame conclude our days,
Our fathers, mothers, and all our friends-
In tears lament our woeful ends.

The days are few we have to live,
And all the world we'd freely give,
A few years more of life to have.
To mend ere we this world do leave.

Bad company we would refrain,
Contented be with honest gain,
And holy keep the Sabbath day,
The laws of God and man obey.

But now no friends our lives can spare,
Therefore to die we must prepare,
And hope the Lord will lend an ear,
To us, poor penitents' last prayer.

Farewell dear father, mother, and all,
Forget our shameful end and fall;
Let not the world, in malice, name
To you our faults, our end and shame.

Remember, Lord, thy servants in distress,
O comfort us, for we arc comfortless,
Pardon our sins before this world we leave,
That we a crown of glory may receive.

To think of death our hearts are fill'd with woe,
Our very eyes like fountains overflow
With melting tears, and we are much afraid
To leave this world before our peace is made.

Ere long we must before the Lord appear,
To answer for our sins committed here,
We tremble at the very thought of this.
Fearing the loss of everlasting bliss.

Judge of Judges, King of Glory,
O how dreadful is our fate:
Summon'd to appear before thee,
In this guilty awful state.

We have been grevious sinners,
Since thou Lord didst give us breath.
But we hope for true-repentance,
Mercy at the hour of death.

Justice [ ] has overtook us,
Stopt us in our wicked race,
Guilt and horror have pursued us,
Death now looks us in the face.

See what numbers round us flocking.
Waiting to see our dreadful fate,
But to us it is most shocking,
We repent, now 'tis too late.

Printed for the Book Cryers.

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