The Last Illness. 425 



Revelations. AVhile Aunt C. read hymn^ to him he 

 repeated, in falteruig accents, the familiar stanzas. 



Monday. There is little change. 



Tuesday. He is lying calm and peaceful, listening 

 to passages from the Scriptures and hymns. 



Wednesday. He is peacefully sleeping away his 

 life into the arms of the Eternal. 



Thursday. At one o'clock this morning, grand- 

 father's brow and cheeks were cold, we thought him 

 nearing his departure, but while we gazed he 

 opened his eyes and put his hand to his head. I 

 asked, "Do you know me?" He answered clearly 

 "Yes " — and my heart poured itself out in thanks- 

 giving to God for His tender mercy in comforting 

 me. He looked inquiringly at Mr. F. who said, " it 

 is John Ficken. We cannot forget to come to see our 

 dear old pastor." Mr. Henry Steinmeyer spoke to 

 him, he moved his lips, but we could not catch what 

 he said. 



From A. R. Rude, D. D. 



Columbia, Feb. 19th, 1874. 



Let the pilgrim go home to rest — to joy — to Him, 

 who will crown his good and faithful servant. How 

 providential was my last visit to Charleston (to ad- 

 minister the Holy Sacrament). His farewell kiss 

 lingers on m}' lips and sanctifies them. 



I shall come when you summon me. 



From John HaskeWs Journal : 



Friday 20th. Grandfather has taken a little nour 

 ishment. Daring the day I read to him the 259th 



