Mr. Fletcher may be said to have had his wish, for he was engaged in visiting the sick and duties of a like kind on the Thursday, (August 4, 1785), from three in the afternoon till nine at night, when on returning home he found he had taken cold. On Friday and Saturday he suffered from fever, and on Sunday he began the service apparently with his usual strength; but he soon faltered. The congregation was alarmed, and Mrs. Fletcher earnestly entreated him to discontinue a task clearly beyond his strength. He recovered on the windows being opened, and preached with remarkable energy and effect. “As soon as he had finished his sermon,” one of his biographers says, “he walked to the communion-table. Here the same affecting scene was renewed with additional solemnity. Tears started from every eye and sighs escaped from every breast, while his people beheld their minister offering up the last languid remains of a life that had been lavishly spent in their service. In going through this last part of his duty he was frequently exhausted, but his spiritual vigour triumphed over his bodily weakness. At length, after having struggled through a service of some hours’ continuance, he was supported, with blessings in his mouth, from the altar to his chamber, where he lay some time in a swoon, and from whence he never walked into the world again. Mr. Fletcher’s friends entered so entirely into his devotional feelings that, they were spared the bitter pang which they would otherwise have experienced from the reflection that these imprudent exertions exasperated his disorder, and proved an acceleration of his death.” He lingered till the following Sunday, at times greatly edifying his friends with accounts of his experience. Mr. Cox says:— “After evening service several of the poor who came from a distance, and were usually entertained under his roof, lingered about the house, and at length expressed an earnest desire to be permitted once more to behold their expiring pastor. Their request was granted. The door of his chamber was set open, directly opposite to which he was sitting upright in bed, unaltered in his appearance; and as they slowly passed along the gallery, one by one, they paused at the door, with a look of mingled supplication and anguish.