W. B. Godbey - Enter His Rest

In spirit and in disposition;
This the Holy Scriptures teach,
'Tis plain without an exposition.”
Now, beloved, you have the book for which you long clamored, I. e., my autobiography. It simply falls in line
with its forty-seven predecessors, having but the one end in view and that is that, by the superabounding grace
of God in Christ, freely dispensed by the omnipotent Holy Spirit, all of the dear Holiness people to whom the
entire library of my writings is dedicated, regardless of nationality, race, sect, denomination or color, shall
certainly enjoy the supereminent experience which is the crowning glory of New Testament saintship. That
experience is the real Pentecostal experience, which means a heart cleansed by the precious blood through
simple receptive and appropriate faith (Acts 15:9), and copiously filled with the Holy Ghost (Acts 2:3). While
we have every reason to fear that the rank and file of nominal Christendom are actually below the salvation line,
under condemnation and exposed to wrath and Hell, horrible dictu, “horrible to tell,” there is no doubt but at
least nine-tenths of the real citizens of God's kingdom on the earth are far back in the Old Testament
dispensation, under legal bondage, and consequently almost utterly powerless as soul-savers, whereas it is the
glorious privilege of all of God's children in the wonderful Pentecostal experience actually to be done with self,
saved, sanctified, filled with the Holy Ghost and both efficiently and joyfully co-operating with Jesus in their
intercessory prayers for this lost world, and successfully used by the Holy Ghost in the conviction of enemies,
conversion of penitents, sanctification of believers and the conservation and edification of this “glorious Church
without spot or wrinkle, washed in the blood of the Lamb.”
This is really the normal attitude of New Testament saintship. Of course all of the Holiness people, without a
single exception, hold up the standard to that identical supernal altitude, which means radically sanctified and
copiously filled with the Holy Ghost. Rest assured that means an everlasting victory over the world, the flesh
and the devil, experienced in the heart where Christ is enthroned and verified in the life in which He reigns
without a rival.
When I was a little boy General Jackson was elected to the Presidency of the United States. He purchased from
the French Government the territory bounded on the east by the Tennessee River, south by the State of
Tennessee, north by the Ohio River, and west by the Mississippi River, and added it to Kentucky. It was a
howling wilderness hitherto inhabited by wild beasts and savages. Of course the United States people at once
poured into it. At that time the Methodist Church had no missionary society. Good Old Bishop Soule, as he rode
around on his horse through the bluegrass region of Kentucky, which was then well populated, gathered up
money in all of his meetings to establish missions in that country, known as “Jackson's Purchase.” We had no
way to send them the money as we do now, and consequently he had to carry it in his pocket. While riding along
on is horse alone, through a great den forest, suddenly a burly robber walked out of the thicket, took his horse by
the bridle, looked him in the face and said, “Give up your money or you are a dead man in a minute.” The
venerable saint, looking the robber straight in the face and putting his hand on the money in his pocket, said, “I
have got money, I do not deny it, but it is God's money and you cannot get it.” He had not a solitary weapon, not
so much as a pocket-knife. As he continued to look the robber in the face, he turned pale as a corpse, let go the
bridle and disappeared in the forest. The man of God went on his way rejoicing and delivered the money to the
missionaries. The solution of this was the simple fact that God was in the old bishop. Therefore utterly unarmed
he was more than a match for the big robber with his implements of death.
The last time I ever saw Bishop Kavanaugh, we rode together on the train about fifty miles, spending the time in
profitable conversation about the things of God. He much interested me telling about the pioneer preachers of
Kentucky, among whom was a very angelic little man by the name of John Sinclair. He said that at one place on
his pioneer circuit in the wild woods the people had built a rough, unhewn log meeting-house, whereas
everywhere else he preached in their cabins or beneath the trees. One Sunday morning while preaching, some
ruffians behaved so very rudely as to constrain him to rebuke them severely, upon which they all retired from
the house. After the old Methodist style, he wound up with a class-meeting, in which they all told their
experiences, and the Lord poured on them from Heaven a wonderful Pentecost, giving them a glorious shouting
time.
Then mounting his horse he proceeded on his journey through the dense forest, pursuing a blind bridlepath.