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to reward him richly in his own soul. At one of those meetings in particular his spirit seemed to be almost carried out of its earthly mansion, when to a friend he observed, “I feel as though it would not be long before I shall join the blood washed throng, in praise to God and the Lamb for ever and ever.” Whether this was uttered from some strong presentiment of an early removal to the Church triumphant, or whether he spoke from an ardent desire 10 participate in the joys of the saints in light, we do not pretend 10 say; but one thing is certain,--the event has remarkably verified the prediction.
Early in the month of September he went with Mrs. F. on a visit to her father's, intending to leave her for a few days to enjoy the society of her friends, while he should return to his district and attend to one or two appointments. But God had otherwise determined. When he reached Washington city, where he had a Quarterly meeting appointed, he was heard to complain of unusual weariness and fatigue, which he attributed to the jolting of the carriage over the rough road that he had travelled, but which was perhaps a premonitory symptom of the fatal disease which ended his laborious and useful life. The indisposition of the stationed preacher left our brother to perform nearly all the labour of the Quarterly meeting, which tended perhaps considerably to accelerate the progress of a disease that had already taken hold upon the system. On the Sunday of this meeting he preached twice, held the lovefeast, and administered the holy sacrament to a numerous crowd of communicants. In every part of the service his spirit seemed to be raised to the highest pitch of devotion; but especially while distributing the consecrated elements, did he appear to be in a rapture of joy. His countenance, his language, and his attitude, all bespoke a happy soul, standing as it were, on the threshold of glory, and only waiting the divine summons to join the songs of the blessed.
Some of his expressions on that occasion will never be forgotten by those who heard them. After ascribing glory to God repeatedly, he added, “ O, how I love the word glory; to me it is one of the sweetest words in the English language." Again pointing down to the altar on which he was standing, he exclaimed, “O what a good place this would be to die, and from here go straight to heaven;" and then added, "My brethren, I feel as if I wanted to drink the new wine of the kingdom with you around our Father's throne.” When the sacramental service closed, he returned to Brother Palmer's, at whose house he had put up, apparently much fatigued, and somewhat complaining. The family learning that it was his intention to preach again in the evening, endeavoured to dissuade him from it. His reply was, "there is no one else to do it, and I cannot neglect my Master's business.” He accordingly preached, and it was his last sermon. On his return from the meeting he was taken with a slight chill; but not apprehend
ing a serious attack, he retired to bed without using any remedy, In the morning, though he still continued somewhat indisposed, he insisted on accompanying Brother Palmer on a visit to two sick persons. With some degree of hesitancy, Bro. P. consented, and thus gave him an opportunity of discharging his last friendly office as a Christian Pastor, in pouring out his prayers by the bed of affliction. On their return it was found that his fever had considerably increased, and that the disease had assumed an aspect calculated to excite some degree of alarm. Brother P. now proposed to call in a Physician, and kindly offered to procure the best medical assistance which the place would afford; but not being himself aware of any great danger, the call for a physician was postponed for some hours longer. At length Dr. Šimm was sent for, who exerted his utmost skill and industry to preserve the life of this esteemed servant of God, and for some days the effects of the treatment were highly flattering ; but such was the violence of the disease as to resist the power of medicine. If the unremitted attentions, the prayers, and tears of the pious family where our brother lay, could have prolonged his useful life, he had yet lived; but God had determined that he should rest from his labours.
In his severest sufferings he was patient, composed and resigned; and his confidence in God was unshaken. The inward witness of the Spirit was clear and direct, and he viewed death as the entrance to an eternal weight of glory. A near friend, while beholding his sufferings, observed to one who was sitting in the room, that it must be an exceedingly difficult thing to repent on a dying bed. This remark he overheard, and not knowing but it might have been intended to have some allusion to him, he smilingly replied, “O, sir, that's not to do now, that was done years ago.
” To a female friend who was sitting near him he said, but a short time befoçe his departue, “ I feel like living for ever;" and just before the welcome messenger arrived, he called one of the preachers, who had called to visit him in his afflictions, to his bed side, whom he addressed to this effect, “ You have been my true yoke fellow-we have laboured together-I am now about to leave you. Such is the nature and state of my disease, that I find I must sink beneath it. But I can assure you that that gospel which I for years have been striving to preach to others, is now my comfort and support.” After this he spoke but little. His strength continued to fail-his countenance, though placid and joyful, began to assume the image of death.
While his weeping friends stood around his bed, he sweetly sunk into the arms of death, in full hope of immortal blessedness, September 25, 1823, between three and four o'clock, P.M.
“ Soldier of Christ, well done,
Memoir of the Rev. Louis R. FECHTIG.
To those who were personally acquainted with our Brother FECHTIG, there will appear nothing in the preceding account like exaggeration. While they retain any sense of the value of true religious and ministerial worth, they cannot but fondly cherish the memory of their departed friend, and adore that Almighty and Paternal Goodness which bestowed upon the church for twelve
years, the labours.of so good and faithful a servant. Christian he was strict and examplary in his life, deep in experience, and truly devoted to God. In the whole of his deportment the graces of the Divine Spirit shone with peculiar lustre. His heart ever seemed to beat in perfect unison with every precept of the word of God. In private and daily intercourse with his friends, he was mild, courteous, affectionate and unassuming. In conversation he was chaste, easy, intelligent, and unobtrusive. In touching upon the characters of absent persons he was remarkably guarded, always acting under the wholesome authority of that much neglected precept which says, speak evil of no man. In families where he lodged he affected no airs of conscious superiority, nor was he ever known to be guilty of a fawning and dastardly acquiescence in any thing he knew to be wrong. He received the attentions of his friends, with such marks of modest and undissembled gratitude as always left upon their minds a favourable impression, and made his company not only agreeable but highly desirable.
As a Christian preacher he was sound in the faith, pre-eminent in zeal, and indefatigable in efforts. It may truly be said of him that he was mighty in the scriptures ; a workman betraying no cause of shame in his sacred profession, rightly dividing the word of truth.
He was deeply read in Ecclesiastical history, a subject of which he was particularly fond. In practical and experimental divinity he was excelled by few of his brethren. Religious controversy he viewed as highly dangerous to that divine charity which more than any other principle ought to characterize the true minister of Christ; yet where the cause of sacred truth was thought to require it, he never declined bearing the fullest testimony against error, in whatever shape it might appear, or from whatever quarter it might proceed. In study he was close, systematic, and persevering. În reading he showed great industry, and a just discrimination and taste in his selections; and thus was be enabled in a few years, to acquire a greater fund of useful knowledge than superficial and disultory readers generally do in half a century. His principal trust, however, as a preacher, was not in book knowledge, but the unction of the Divine Spirit. He fully believed that the faculties of the true minister of Christ were in a high degree dependent upon direct and immediate assistance from above; and hence to much reading and deep thought, he united much fervent prayer. From his closet, when it was practicable, VOL. VII.
would he repair to the pulpit, to shed upon his audience that light, and warm them with that heat, which he had just derived from the Sun of Righteousness.
As a Presiding Elder in the Methodist Episcopal Church, he will be held in affectionate regard by those of whose labours he was called to take the oversight. Instead of betraying any symptom of that lordly superiority to which some might have been tempted by superiority of office, he was always particularly careful to let his brethren see and feel that he was willing to be the servant of all. To the young preachers in his district he was a pattern of ministerial gravity, zeal, and disinterestedness. To the aged preachers he was respectful, attentive and indulgent, ever evincing a readiness to appreciate former services, and to sympathize with present infirunities. In the administration of discipline he was cool, deliberate and mild, yet firm and fixed in his decisions. As a member of the Baltimore Conference he was highly and deservedly esteemed by his brethren. To the eye of the Conference, as well as to the eye of the public, he, throughout his ministerial life, presented the pleasing picture of a blameless reputation; a reputation that shall live and be respected while memory holds its seat in the minds of the present generation. That he should have been cat down in the vigour of life, and in the most flattering prospects of unusual success, has appeared to many of his friends an unaccountable dispensation. But let none arraign the wisdom of Divine Providence, nor presume to say to the Great Disposer of events, What dost thou ?
The Attributes of God Displayed.
LOSS OF THE SHIP PARIS. The loss of the ship Paris, from this port, on the French coast, has excited much interest, and we are pleased to furnish from a late Connecticut paper, the following particulars of the event, as related by one of the passengers to his brother.-Religious Chronicle.
Paris, Nov. 20, 1823. “Long before this reaches you, you will have heard of the dreadful catastrophe which terminated our voyage-want of time more than any thing else has prevented my writing to you before. From the time we left New-York until the 29th of October, we had more or less adverse winds, with the exception of eight or nine of the first days, during which the wind was tolerably fair. In the night of 29 to 30, we succeeded in beating round the Scilly Islands, and getting into the channel, when we had a fair though light breeze, which lasted a great part of the day. In the evening we had rather squally weather, the wind more ahead: however, we expected to get into Havre with the morning's tide of Friday
31. But how vain are human calculations.—About midnight commenced one of the most violent gales which has been experienced on this coast for twenty-five years. I had been sometime in bed as well as the passengers—about two in the morning, E**** awoke me, saying it blew very hard, and I found the ship rolled most terribly. Nothing was heard at that time (for the passengers were generally asleep) but the most terrific howling of the wind, as it passed the spars and rigging of the ship, and the already hoarse voice of the Captain, (hardly distinguishable) repeating every moment, “how does she head?” I dressed myself as quick as possible and ran upon deck; nothing was to be seen, so totally dark was the night. The rain, accompanied by heavy hail, fell in torrents : our good and brave Captain, who was obliged to face the storm, had his face cut with the hailstones, and was perfectly drenched with the salt as well as fresh water; while standing in the companion-way, a blast more severe than before struck the ship, and parted the fore and mizen topsail sheets which were connected by heavy chains for a moment the light emitted by the breaking of these chains, permitted me to see the sea in all its terrific majesty. A wave at that moment broke over the ship, and to avoid a second drenching, I went down into the cabin to await the morning; there I found most of the passengers already out of their births, some cheerful, others crying. Our Captain came down a moment, wrung out his coat, took a glass of porter and a biscuit, told us not to be afraid, as it was only a slight squall, and again hastened upon deck. The gale however continued to increase, and early in the morning I assisted E**** in going up into the companion in order that she might have an opportunity of seeing what I had never before seen," the waves rolling mountains high.” She was soon satisfied with the sight, and went below, where we remained till about ten o'clock, when I again went up and was immediately ordered down by the Captain, who said he wanted no passengers upon deck. This a little frightened me, and I looked about me--what was my astonishment, when I saw as it were towering over our heads the high rocks of Alderny! I then went down to inform E**** of our situation---the Captain followed me, and examining the chart, thought it could be no other than the island of Alderny, for the weather was, and had been so thick that we could hardly discern for more than a mile. He told me our case was a most desperate one; the storm, together with the current, had forced us into the worst situation—that there was a passage round the island between it and the Casket rocks, but that a vessel larger than a small fishing boat had never passed before. Not to atternpt the passage was inevitable death on the contrary, to attempt it might possibly be successful. He did not hesitate the ship was put before the wind, with what little sail she could carry-all the gentlemen passengers were now on the deck, viewing what to them appeared to be their tomb;