W. B. Godbey - Enter His Rest

expedite the fulfillment of this prophecy! This is a cogent argument for entire sanctification, which invariably
makes all of its votaries radical Prohibitionists.
While there is more whiskey made in Kentucky than in any other state in the Union, which doubtless largely
accounts for the large criminal list which makes us all blush for shame, yet God has honored our labors, waging
an exterminating war against the manufacture and sale of this awful liquid damnation, and giving us local option
extending over large portions of the state, which thus brilliantly contrast with the dark regions dominated by the
soul-destroying monster.
Our greatest trouble in the local option elections has been the difficulty of controlling the colored vote. This is,
however, much relieved, as those people since the Emancipation have made rapid progress, both educationally
and religiously.
Gen. Clay Smith, a Baptist preacher and the for candidate for the Presidency on the Prohibition ticket, has been
eminently useful in the movement. When he was pastor of the Baptist Church in Mt.
Sterling and T. J. Godbey, a cousin of mine, of the Methodist Church in that city, they had one of the most
interesting campaigns I have ever known (as I was there assisting my cousin in a revival meeting). The good
people led by their pastors had labored long and hard and reached the point where they knew they had the
majority of the white people, consequently the fight was with the sons of Ham. They had made them a specialty
and were very hopeful, though they knew the saloonkeepers would buy them if possible. Finally on Sunday
night preceding the Monday of the election they had a union rally in the Methodist Colored Church in their
special interest; hither the white pastors and leading brethren had assembled. The house was packed and crowds
thronged the doors and windows.
Gen. Smith proceeded to address them, telling them about how his father owned sixty of them and yet he went
into the Union Army and fought to free them. He had been wounded on the battlefield, so, holding up his arm
which had been lacerated by a bullet, he proceeded to tell them that he was in great trouble, fighting that awful
monster, whiskey, which was sending million to a drunkard's Hell, and so he much needed help. Thus appealing
to them, he said, “When you were all in bondage, and my father owned sixty of you, I went to the battlefield,
fought and shed my blood to break your chains, to set you free, and now when I'm in trouble, if you don't help
me, I'll be mad.” At that moment shouts roared from all parts of the audience, “We are going to help you, boss,
that we will, don't be afraid!” Then the pastor turned, stated that their Conference was coming on and they were
behind in their finances and needed money, specifying the amount. Then those white brethren walked forward
and laid on the table all the deficiency, to the infinite delight of their sable brethren. Next morning all of the
pastors were at the polls bright and early, before they opened. Every colored man was interviewed and a ticket
given him. On that day the saloons were all giving out free whiskey, but the Christian women had their lunchstands
giving them coffee, pies, cakes and other delicious edibles free. The tide moved up so rapidly in favor of
local option that by ten o'clock the saloon men, despairing of victory, ceased to donate the whiskey, but began to
sell it, as they knew their race was run and they would get to sell no more after those few days.
10. FIGHT AGAINST SATAN
When the Lord sanctified me, baptizing me with the Holy Ghost and fire, in 1868, He actually made me a
flaming cyclone. I inherited a wonderfully tenacious physical constitution, the hard work and constant activity
through which my boyhood passed making me an athlete and giving me physical hardihood of a very
extraordinary type. From the very hour of my sanctification I was an indefatigable preacher and always ready to
blow the silver trumpet, warn the wicked to flee the wrath to come, and cheer the weak believers along the
heavenly way. I have often preached six times a day I was a constant runner from house to house dashing in
talking to the people about salvation and praying for them.
In time of a snow knee deep I went to a country” church to hold a protracted meeting finding it very difficult to
get my horse across the streams which were all frozen over. A man who was not saved and had a leaning toward
the Methodists kindly came out and helped me to get my horse across the creek and said afterward that he
thought I was a fool to undertake a protracted meeting in such weather. Though the winter continued like