God and the Man by Robert W. Buchanan — Read

Although I am no scholar, and am, moreover, greatly lacking in those secret spiritual gifts which make certain rude men write and speak as if inspired, I have undertaken, at the request of my dear friend and master, Mr. John Wesley--a good and great man, whom late in life (yet, thank God, not too late) I have learned to understand--at his request, I say, I have undertaken to set down certain strange things which occurred to me during what I may term, in all humility, the period of my conversion.

But first, before I begin to tax my brain for these half-vanished memories, and to set forth how marvellously the Lord hath dealt with me, let me avow that I was never one of those who care to make public inquisition of their own souls for the astonishment and edification of foolish creatures agape for spiritual miracles. I was ever, like all men of my race, one caring little for the sympathy of strange folk; dumb in trouble, loving solitude, dwelling, often sullenly, with my own thoughts; so that when my heart bled, it bled inwardly, and when I was broken on the wheel of despair I wore a brave front to the world, and when I prayed to God I prayed in a secret place.