To bow my head, with grief and toil opprest,
Till borne by angel-bands to everlasting rest!”
This remarkable woman, in after years, found peace with God. Charles Wesley speaks of her as “a gracious, tender, trembling soul; a bruised reed, which the Lord will not break; still harassed with ‘darkness, doubts, and fears,’ but against hope believing in hope.” This was a few days before she died, in the year 1750.[[110]] John Wesley says, that for some years before her death she was “a witness of that rest which remains even here for the people of God.”[[111]][[112]] Mr Kirk justly remarks, that a careful analysis of Mehetabel’s mental powers, a full estimate of her highly poetic genius, and a complete collection of her poems, would form a volume of no ordinary interest and value.
But to return to the parents of this gifted woman:—Very soon after their settlement at Epworth, Susannah Wesley was bereaved, by death, of her sister Dunton. Her father died just before the removal to Epworth; her sister just after. This double bereavement was a most painful trial. Elizabeth Dunton, like her sister Susannah Wesley, was a remarkable woman. From her childhood she was pious. She was so thoroughly acquainted with the Holy Scriptures, that, if any text was quoted, she could at once tell the book, chapter, and verse where it might be found. For nearly twenty years, she kept a diary, and wrote so copiously, that her experiences and meditations, if printed, would have filled a folio. “She was a lover of solitude; and Sabbaths, sermons, and sacraments were the best refreshments she met with in her way to glory. Her mind was always full of charity towards those who might differ from her in matters of opinion. She loved the image of Christ wherever it was formed. In her last sickness, which lasted about seven months, she never uttered a repining word; and throughout the whole there was no doubt upon her spirit as to her future happiness. Among her last utterances were the following:—‘Heaven will make amends for all; it is but a little while before I shall be happy. I have good ground to hope that when I die, through Christ, I shall be blessed. It is a solemn thing to die. Oh, this eternity! There is no time for preparing for heaven like youth. I look back with joy on some of the early years that I sweetly spent in my father’s house. Oh, what a mercy it is to be dedicated to God betimes!’”[betimes!’”][[113]]
At her own desire, she was buried in Bunhill Fields. Her funeral sermon was preached by the Rev. Timothy Rogers, M.A., and was published in a volume of nearly three hundred pages.[[114]]
The following is Dunton’s description of her before their marriage:—“Tall; of good aspect; hair of light chestnut colour; dark eyes; mouth small and sweet; air somewhat melancholy, but agreeable; neck long and graceful; complexion fair; piety scarce paralleled, and wit solid. She is sweetly modest, and has all kinds of virtues. She is an agreeable acquaintance, a trusty friend, and is mistress of all the graces that make a perfect woman.”
In another place he writes concerning her:—“For the fifteen years we lived together there never passed an angry look. Her sympathies with me, in all the distresses of my life, make her virtues shine with the greater lustre. Like the glow-worm, that emblem of true friendship, she shined to me, even in the dark. My head no sooner ached, but her heart felt it. To requite her love I would have stripped myself to my very skin; yea, mortgaged my very flesh to have served her. Indeed all our distresses of body and mind were so equally divided, that all hers were mine, and all mine were hers.”
Dunton desired Samuel Wesley to write an epitaph for his departed wife. Wesley complied with the request, and with the epitaph sent the following significant epistle:—
“Epworth, July 24, 1697.
“Dear Brother,—It has been neither unkindness to you, with whom I have traded and been justly used for many years, nor unthankfulness to Mr Rogers, (for I shall own my obligations to that good man while I live,) which has made me so long neglect answering your several letters; but the hurry of a remove,[[115]] and my extraordinary business, being obliged to preach the visitation sermon at Gainsborough, at the bishop’s coming hither, which is but just over. Besides, I would fain have sent you an elegy as well as an epitaph, but cannot get one to my mind, and therefore you must be content with half your desire; and if you please to accept this epitaph, it is at your service. I hope it will come before you need another epithalamium.—I am, your obliged friend and brother,