W. B. Godbey - Enter His Rest

of spirits, I Cor. 12:8-10, in whose clear illumination I was enabled to read the people like I read Greek and
Latin. I saw that we were in a hornet's nest, though no one had posted me on the fact that there were no
sanctified people in that country. The camp had been pitched by the Holiness Band in Knoxville, about a dozen
of whom had come out to lead the campaign against Satan and his myrmidons. I soon learned that the people in
the community had unfortunately become prejudiced against sanctification and the holiness people. For this
unhappy state of things, the preachers were principally in fault, who were violently opposed to our mode and
had done their utmost to arouse the people and fortify them against the influence which they contemplated
during the encampment. This was abundantly evidenced by a letter I soon received from a Methodist pastor
forbidding me to take part in the meeting and threatening me with prosecution and decapitation if I did not
desist at once and leave the grounds. Of course, I did not comply with the letter, but simply responded in a kind
and loving invitation to him to attend the meeting, and let us have a glorious refreshing from the presence of the
Lord, mutually helping each other, as we traveled along the King's highway to the land of the blessed, where
sorrow never treads and pleasure never dies. I heard no more from him, and know not whether he ever came to
any of our meetings or not.
As my brother evangelist already had the night meetings, I encouraged him to keep them and let me preach in
the day time. This he did till the following Tuesday, when he left for another field of labor; of course, turning
over the meeting exclusively to me. I continued to teach the blessed Scriptures to the dear saints during the day,
but preached at night to the vast audience, and of course the Sinai Gospel was my constant theme. I kept Hell
uncovered, as flamiferous and horrific as I could paint it in the bold phraseology of God's precious Word. I
preached from such texts as, “The wicked shall be turned into Hell with all the nations that forget God,” Psalm
9:17, and our Savior's frequent and unmistakable utterances on the lake of fire and brimstone that burneth
forever and ever, 'where the worm dieth not and the fire is not quenched.” We had a few seekers, but the crowds
were proud, stubborn, haughty, rebellious, and even defiant.
So we moved on through the week; the schedule time impending expiration the ensuing Sunday night. On the
Sabbath the crowds were immense. Morning and afternoon I preached mainly to the Lord's people on
sanctification, however at the same time showing up a clear Bible As the evening service, which uniformly
opened at sunset, drew nigh, I felt we were approaching the crisis yea, all day I felt impressed that a cyclone had
left Heaven and was traveling that way; when it would strike, I could not decisively opine. Having opened with
the setting sun and spent a solid hour in prayer and testimony, I took my stand to preach the Word, aiming still to
give them Sinai, as God in mercy might condescend to help “a feeble worm thrash a mountain.” I do not think I
had enunciated my text, till suddenly that cyclone struck the multitude; the people all around me leaped to their
feet and not a few fell on the ground. As yet my altar invitation, which had hitherto received so meager a
response, had not been given, but the people unhesitatingly rushed to the altar from all parts of the auditorium,
quickly filling it to overflowing, then falling in the aisles and filling them up, and all crying aloud for mercy.
At that time the blessed Holy Spirit was most copiously poured out on the entire assembly in His convicting,
converting, and sanctifying power, and abundantly rested upon the sanctified Knoxville band, inspiring them
with those wonderful extraordinary gifts, nine in all, I Cor. 12:8-10, pursuant to these supernatural induements.
They all went to preaching with all their might to the people nearest them; thus actually developing a regular
Pentecostal scene. I tried to conduct the meeting but signally failed; and certainly all right, because the Holy
Ghost was in charge, managing it in His own infallible way. He gave every one the message He wanted him to
deliver, as well as the utterance pertinent to that delivery.
My attention was arrested by a stalwart man making for the altar with all his might. He fell prostrate in the
middle of the aisle and roared out an importunate prayer with stentorian voice, pleading with God to have mercy
on his lost soul. I felt anxious to speak to him and try to help him, but all of my efforts to command his attention
signally failed. His eyes seemed set on something far away beyond everything about him, as if looking into the
ethereal regions with all the power of sight and diagnosis. I somehow felt constrained to linger about him and
make him a subject of special prayer; meanwhile souls were passing triumphantly into life and sweeping
victoriously into Beulah Land every few minutes, bright as a meridian sunburst and with tremendous shouts of
victory.
The scene, preeminently Pentecostal, swept on the even tenor of its way without the slightest intermission, for