CONCERNING GRATITUDE  
I cannot give thanks to that Friend, for I know of none that are worthy. Every hair of my body is a gift from Him; how could I thank Him for every hair?
 
Praise be to the munificent Lord, Who from non-existence brought His creatures into being. Who can describe His goodness? All praises are encompassed by His glory.
 
See how from childhood to old age he has endowed thee with a splendid robe!
 
He made thee pure; therefore, be pure—unworthy it is to die impured by sin.
 
Let not the dust remain upon the mirror, for once grown dull it never again will polish.
 
When thou dost seek to gain the means of life, rely not upon the strength of thine own arms.
 
O self-worshipper! why lookest thou not to God, Who giveth power to thy hand?
 
[101]
 
If by thy striving thou doest aught of good, take not the credit to thyself; know it to be by the grace of God.
 
Thou standest not by thine own strength—from the Invisible art thou sustained each moment.
A Mother’s Warning to her Son
 
Sorrowed at the conduct of her son, who gave no ear to her advice, a woman brought to him the cradle in which once he slept, and said: “O weak in love and forgetful of the past! Wast thou not a weeping and helpless child, for whom through many nights I sacrificed my sleep? Thou hadst not then the strength thou hast to-day; thou couldst not ward the flies from off thy body. A tiny insect gave thee pain; to-day thou excellest amidst the strong. In the grave wilt thou again be thus, unable to repel the onslaughts of an ant. How, when the grave-worms eat the marrow of thy brain, wilt thou relight the Lamp of Intellect? Thou art as a blind man who seeth not the way, and knoweth not that a well lies in his path. If thou be grateful for thy sight, ’tis well; if not, then surely art thou blind. Thy tutor gave thee not the power of wisdom; by God was it implanted in thy nature. Had He withheld this gift from thee, truth would have appeared to thee as falsehood.”
 
[102]
Discourse concerning the Art of the Most High God
 
For thee is set the bright moon in the sky by night, the world-illuminating sun by day.
 
Like a chamberlain, the heavens spread for thee the carpet of the Spring.
 
The wind and snow, the clouds and rain, the roaring thunder and the lightning glittering as a sword—all are His agents, obedient to His word, nourishing the seed that thou hast planted in the soil.
 
If thou be athirst, fret not; the clouds bear water upon their shoulders.
 
From the bee He giveth thee honey, and manna from the wind; fresh dates from the date-tree and the date-tree from a seed.
 
For thee are the sun and moon and the Pleiades; they are as lanterns upon the roof of thy house.
 
He bringeth roses from the thorn and musk from a pod; gold from the mine and green leaves from a withered stick.
 
With His own hands did He paint thine eye and eyebrows—one cannot leave one’s bosom friends to strangers.
 
Omnipotent is He, nourishing the delicate with His many bounties.
 
Render thanks each moment from thy heart, for gratitude is not the work of the tongue alone.
 
[103]
 
O God, my heart is blood, mine eyes are sore when I behold Thy indescribable gifts.
Discourse concerning the Condition of the Weak
 
He knows not the value of a day of pleasure who has not seen adversity. Hard is the winter for the beggar—the rich man heeds it not. If thou art swift of foot, be thankful when thou lookest upon the lame.
 
What know they of the value of water who dwell upon the banks of the Jayhun? Ask it of them who are parched in the heat of the sun. What cares the Arab by the Tigris for the thirsty ones of the desert?
 
He knows the value of health who lost his strength in fever. How can the night be long to thee reclining in ease upon thy bed? Think of him who is racked with fever—the sick man knows the tediousness of the night.
 
At the sound of the drum the master awakens—what knows he how the watchman passed the night?
Story of Tughral, King of Shirāz, and the Hindu Watchman
 
One night in winter Tughral passed by a Hindu sentinel, who was shivering like the star[104] Canopus in the icy rain. Moved to pity, he said: “Thou shalt have my fur coat. Wait by the terrace and I will send it by the hand of a slave.”
 
On entering his palace he was met by a beautiful slave, at the sight of whom the poor sentinel passed from his mind. The fur coat slipped through the latter’s ears; through his ill-luck it never reached his shoulders.
 
The king slept through the night devoid of care; but what said the chief watchman to him in the morning?—
 
“Perhaps thou didst forget that ‘lucky man’ when thy hand was upon the bosom of thy slave. By thee the night was spent in tranquillity and joy; what knowest thou how the night has gone with us?”
 
They with the caravan bend their heads over the cauldron; what care they for them that toil on foot through the desert sand?
 
Tarry, O active youths, for old and feeble men are with the caravan. Well hast thou slept in the litter while the driver held the nose-string of the camel. What of the desert and mountains? what of the stones and the sand? Ask how it fares with them that lag behind.
Story of a Thief
 
A thief was arrested by a night-watchman and bound by the hands. Thus, crestfallen and[105] afflicted, he remained. During the night he heard some one cry out in want.
 
“How long wilt thou bewail thy lot?” he asked. “Go, sleep, O wretched man! give thanks to God that the watchman has not tied thee by the hands.”
 
Bemoan not thine own misfortune when thou seest another more wretched than thyself.
Story............