Original - Duke Divinity School

Epitaph
on M. W. 233
In even Scale, by Truth Divine,
When Greatness weigh’d shall be;
Nor scepter’d Kings shall brighter shine,
Nor, laurel’d Chiefs than Thee.
Thy Patient, Active, Chearful Faith,
No Form of Woe could move,
Not Worldly Want! Securely plac’d
On God, Thy Hope! Thy Love!
Well thought, by fawning Crowds enclosed,
They grasped an empty Name?
No finer Dust their Limbs composed,
Their Minds no purer Flame.
Now equal Death has level laid
The Sovereign and the Slave.
His Honors like her Beauty fade:
Thine flourishing in the grave.
Incline, Blest Shade, thy pitying Brow:
on these mean Great look down;
A Richer Robe adorns Thee now,
A never-fading Crown!
233 Cf. [Anonymous,] “On the Death of a good Poor Woman,” in David Lewis (1683?–1760), ed.,
Miscellaneous Poems by Several Hands (London: J. Watts, 1730), 244–45. [Wesley’s version differs at several
points, perhaps reflecting an earlier version of that published.]
148