At the close of the Conference Fletcher returned to Madeley, and resumed his quiet, pastoral life. Even yet Wesley was not quite satisfied at Fletcher's "hiding his light under a bushel" in his country parish. But the Vicar of Madeley knew his vocation, and abided by it. He wrote to his friend Mr. Ireland: "I keep in my sentry-box till Providence remove me; my situation is quite suited to my little strength. I may do as much or as little as I please, according to my weakness. And I have an advantage which I can have nowhere else in such a degree: my little field of action is just at my door; so that if I happen to overdo myself, I have but a step from my pulpit to my bed, and from my bed to my grave.... The snail does best in its shell; were it to aim at galloping, like the racehorse, it would be ridiculous indeed. My wife is quite of my mind with respect to the call we have to a sedentary life."
Among the latest acquaintances made by Fletcher was that with Charles Simeon, of Cambridge, then a young and zealous clergyman just coming into note, and afterwards, for so long a period, the leader of the Evangelical party in the university. Simeon preached in Madeley church, Fletcher himself previously going through the village, bell in hand, to announce that a young clergyman from Cambridge was about to preach, and urging the people to come to the church.
It does not appear that there was at this time any noticeable failure of strength, or appearance of dangerous symptoms; but, in truth, his hold of life was very feeble, his vital force was almost spent. It was often in his thoughts that death was near. Life had never been so sweet to him as it was now; but death too,
"Dear, beauteous death, the jewel of the just,"
was none the less the crowning mercy for which he waited. To few men has death been so disarmed beforehand as to Fletcher.
Among the Evangelical leaders there was now, indeed, a swift succession of departures. These "companions in tribulation, and in the kingdom and patience of Jesus Christ," were [Greek: epekteinomenoi], "reaching forth unto" that which was before them, and one after another "attained," and was made perfect. Early in May, 1785, Vincent Perronet, the venerable Vicar of Shoreham, died in the ninety-second year of his age. Charles Wesley buried him, and preached his funeral sermon. He himself was, in much feebleness, awaiting his summons, and asked for Fletcher's prayers, saying, "Help me to depart in peace." He had yet three years to wait for his release.
