W. B. Godbey - Enter His Rest

witnessed to the mighty work of the Lord in healing his body, saying to the people, “Beware how you treat this
man, for he has power to heal the sick,” at the same time testifying that he had burnt with typhoid fever ten days
and gotten no relief, but was healed while I was praying for him, his mother gladly corroborating his testimony,
the result was that conviction fell on the people and we had a glorious revival.
From that circuit the Conference sent me to Burlington, the county-seat of Boone Co., of which Covington,
containing about a hundred thousand people, is the metropolis. They gave me that town along with Florence and
East Berd, thriving bluegrass villages, containing about fifteen hundred each. At the close of the Conference,
Wednesday night, the Bishop read out the appointments.
Though the schedule time for the preachers to begin the work of the ensuing year did not arrive till Sunday, 1
started away on the first train, reaching East Berd Thursday afternoon. Then sending the word all around, we
drummed up a good congregation by lamplighting.
Meanwhile the magnates of the Church informed me that they had preaching by just two denominations, I. e.,
the Methodists and the Universalists, and that they alternated either with the other in perfect harmony, brotherly
love and Christian union, and that I must be very careful to say nothing about Hell and damnation, lest they
receive offense, which would ruin everything; If they had said nothing to me, I would certainly not have
introduced myself preaching on that subject, but under the circumstances I saw it was “strike then” or my
liberties were gone and my year's work a failure. Therefore, taking for my text, Psalm x, 17, “The wicked shall
be turned into Hell, with all the nations that forget God,” I uncapped the bottomless pit and shook them over it,
exposing the fact that people who do not believe in Hell are unbelievers; that Jesus says, “He that believeth not
shall be damned.” While I exposed the awful doom of the wicked, I held those poor, deluded Universalists over
the flaming abyss and the people saw them all dropping in and the devil kicking them for foot-balls around the
pandemonium, cursing them for being such fools as to believe his lies and take Hell out of their creed, thus
giving him a chance to lead them blind-folded till they dropped down to rise no more.
That one sermon settled my destiny at that place. The news had gone abroad everywhere that I was crazy. They
had heard it and then they believed it and were so disgusted with me that they didn't want me for their preacher.
The following morning I hasted away to Florence, a very beautiful town. There we scattered the word al around
so that we had a splendid audience at night, the people posting me up, notifying me that they had two
denominations preaching in that town, the Methodists and Campbellites, alternating either with the other, and,
warned me that I should he very careful not to say anything against the water doctrine, such a favorite with the
Campbellites, lest they receive offense, observing that they had Christian union and co-operation and were
opposed to having anything said calculated to alienation.
I knew I could do no good there if I closed my mouth against the awful, soul-destroying heresies currently
preached by those people, deceiving poor souls by thousands and making them believe they are Christians when
they are sinners in the broad way that leads to death. Therefore I fearlessly exposed their heresies and labored to
show the people the true way of salvation by grace and not by works. Of course that upset them and, as they,
too, had heard the report that I was crazy, they concluded they did not want a crazy preacher whom they could
not control. Therefore they settled on the conclusion of giving me a free ride to the presiding elder's office in
Covington. Therefore Saturday morning I enjoyed this ten mile ride free. The carriage was driven y the leading
steward who turned over the crazy preacher to the presiding elder and asked him to supply his place. That was
the happiest ride of my life. I shouted all the way and he groaned. I was bright as the vernal rose and he was
blue as indigo.
At that time Bishop McTieyre, in charge of the six Southern Methodist Conferences in Texas, which was then
truly the Wild West, was calling aloud for a hundred volunteers to supply the deficiencies in the Lone Star State.
I made up my mind to respond to his call, saying to him, to put me down ad libitum in the Lone Star State.
Therefore I ordered my presiding elder to telegraph my name to him, but he positively refused to do it, saying
that he would rather transfer any other twenty men out of the Kentucky Conference than W. B. Godbey. He
looked me in the face and said, “Brother Godbey, the man that had four hundred people converted last year
cannot transfer out of this Conference.” Then I said, “What will you do with me? My people have rejected me
and hauled me away for a crazy man.” “Oh,” he said, “that question is easy answered. I will take you from them