The King and the Holy Man

They tell a story of a certain king whom illness had spun thin as thread on a spindle. His body was so wasted by weakness that he envied his own lowly servants. For a king, though famous on the field, is worth less than a pawn once weakness strikes. A courtier kissed the ground before the throne: May the king live forever. In this city there is a man of blessed breath; few match him in piety. He has never walked a crooked path; his heart is pure and his prayers are answered. No one brought their troubles to him without their wish being granted at once. Call him, so he may say a prayer for you, that mercy may descend from highest heaven. The king ordered the chief attendants to summon the old man of blessed step. They went and asked, and the poor man came: a noble soul in humble clothes. The king said, Pray for me, wise one, for I am pinned in this thread like a needle. The bent backed old man heard this and harshly raised a rough cry. God is kind to the one who is just: show mercy, and see God's mercy in return. How can my prayer do you any good while prisoners lie helpless in pit and chains? You who have shown the people no mercy, how can you expect ease from your fortune? First you must ask pardon for your wrongs, and only then ask a good man to pray. How can his prayer lift you up when the prayers of the oppressed chase after you? The Persian king heard these words and burned at once with anger and shame. He was hurt, then said within his heart: Why am I hurt? What the dervish said is true. He ordered that everyone held in chains be freed at once by his command. After two cycles of prayer, the worldly wise man raised his hands in need to the Judge. Saying, You who raised the sky above, you seized him in war; now let him go in peace. He still held his hands up in prayer when the king lifted his head and leapt to his feet. You would think he might fly with joy like a peacock, once he saw no thread binding his feet. He ordered his treasure of jewels scattered at the old man's feet, and gold poured over his head. But truth must not be hidden for the sake of falsehood, so the old man shook out his robe and said: Do not go back to picking up that thread again, lest the thread should come loose once more. Since you have fallen once, watch your step, for a man can slip and fall a second time. Hear this from Saadi, for it is true: not everyone who falls gets up again.