When all was over, Mrs. Wesley was less shocked than her children expected. “Now I am heard,” said she, calmly, “in his having so easy a death, and my being strengthened so to bear it.” She, nevertheless, felt deeply her lone and lorn situation. Epworth had been no paradise of unmixed delight to her. The serpent had often lurked among its flowers; poverty, like an armed man, had frequently stood at the gate, and sometimes crossed the threshold, and death had many a time entered the dwelling; but, as in widow’s weeds and sable dress, she left the dear old spot, never more to return, “Some natural tears she dropped, but dried them soon.” After spending some months with her daughter in the neighbouring town of Gainsborough, Mrs. Wesley went, in September, 1736, to reside with her eldest son, at Tiverton, where she remained until July, 1737. Thence she removed to Wootton, Wiltshire, where Mr. Hall, who had married her daughter Martha, was curate. In the course of a few months, Mr. and Mrs. Hall removed to Salisbury, and Mrs. Wesley accompanied them to that ancient cathedral city. In the spring of 1739, she returned to the place of her birth, and there spent the remainder of her days. Fifty years before, in the bloom of early womanhood, she had left the mighty metropolis, to share in the joys and sorrows of a minister’s wife. Then, her father, mother, sisters, and brothers were all alive; now, all were numbered with the dead. The mother of the Wesleys herself was waiting, as in the land of Beulah, for the call, “Come ye up hither.” Her closing hours afforded ample evidence of a triumphant death. On the 23rd July, 1742, the founder of Methodism wrote in his journal—“Her look was calm and serene, and her eyes fixed upward, while we commended her soul to God. From three to four, the silver cord was loosening, the wheel breaking at the cistern, and then, without any struggle or sigh or groan, the soul was set at liberty.” Her distinguished son and all her surviving daughters stood round the bed, and fulfilled her last request: “Children, as soon as I am released, sing a psalm of praise to God.” Some of those strains afterwards written by the dying widow’s minstrel son, would have been most appropriate.