The Prince, the Woodcutter, and the Lesson of Mercy

The Prince, the Woodcutter, and the Lesson of Mercy

BY: Khan

Once upon a time, in the golden sands of Egypt, there lived a noble prince. Though he belonged to royalty, he possessed neither the pride of kings nor the arrogance of power. He ate the simplest of meals, lived among his people, and spent most of his days serving them and remembering God. His kindness and humility were well known across the kingdom — virtues inherited from his compassionate father, the late king.

One quiet afternoon, after hearing the grievances of his subjects, the prince wandered into the forest to meditate in solitude. The gentle whisper of the trees and the soft songs of birds surrounded him. As he sat under a tall cedar, lost in prayer, his attention was caught by a strange sight — a poor woodcutter chopping logs, speaking tenderly to his donkey as if it were a close friend. But soon, the man’s tone changed. He dropped his axe, buried his face in his hands, and began to weep bitterly.

Day after day, the prince watched the same scene unfold. The woodcutter would chop wood, talk to his donkey, then cry uncontrollably. The sight troubled the kind-hearted prince. Finally, unable to contain his curiosity or his compassion, he stepped out from behind the trees and approached the man.

“Old man,” the prince said gently, “I have seen you here every day, speaking to your donkey and then crying in sorrow. Tell me, what pain burdens your heart?”

Hearing these kind words, the old woodcutter’s eyes filled with tears. He fell to his knees before the prince and began his tale.

“I was once a man blessed with a son,” he said in a trembling voice. “God had granted him wealth beyond imagination. But alas, that very wealth destroyed him. Pride poisoned his heart. He saw no one’s worth except his own. He mocked his poor relatives, turned away the needy, and humiliated those who came for help.

“One day, a distant relative of ours — a pious old woman from another kingdom — came to our door. Her daughter’s wedding was near, but she had no money for the ceremony. She begged for a little help, believing that in hardship, family stands together. But my arrogant son, blinded by his riches, shouted at her, pushed her out, and slammed the door in her face.”

The old man paused, his voice cracking with grief. “That night, a red storm swept across the land. Thunder roared, lightning struck, and rain poured down like never before. While my son and I slept comfortably in our warm beds, that poor woman remained outside our door — shivering, weeping, and praying for mercy that never came. By morning, she was gone — her soul taken by the cold and the storm.

“When I awoke, I found my house in ruins. Lightning had struck it; our wealth was turned to ashes. But the greatest punishment awaited me — my son had been transformed into this very donkey you see beside me. That day, I realized my own sin — I had stayed silent while my son grew arrogant. I never stopped him, never guided him back to kindness. His curse is my burden.”

The prince’s eyes filled with tears. “Indeed,” he said softly, “to remain silent before wrongdoing is to be its accomplice. But God is merciful. Ask His forgiveness with a sincere heart, and perhaps He will show you the way to peace.”

The old man nodded and fell to the ground, weeping and praying for forgiveness. At that very moment, the sound of galloping hooves echoed through the forest. A young princess, radiant and noble, appeared on a white horse. She dismounted and looked at the prince and the woodcutter with curiosity.

“What has happened here?” she asked.

The prince told her everything — the tale of the proud son, the curse, and the old man’s regret. As the story unfolded, tears welled up in the princess’s eyes. When the prince finished, she stepped forward, trembling.

“That poor woman,” she whispered, “was my mother.”

The prince and the woodcutter froze.

“Yes,” she continued, her voice heavy with sorrow. “My mother came to your house that night — tired, poor, and desperate. Your son’s cruelty drove her out into the storm, where she prayed for mercy until her last breath. By dawn, she was gone. When the king — my father — found her lifeless body, he took me in as his own daughter. I was raised in his palace and later married his son — this very prince standing before you. God raised me from dust to the throne, while your son’s pride cast him down from man to beast.”

The woodcutter dropped to his knees, trembling. “Forgive me, my princess,” he cried. “Forgive my son, forgive me!”

The princess, moved by his tears and repentance, looked toward the sky. “God is just,” she said gently. “He punishes, but He also forgives those who truly repent.”

Then, as if by divine grace, a bright light surrounded the donkey. The creature brayed loudly, stumbled, and fell to the ground. When the light faded, a young man — the woodcutter’s son — stood there, human once again, weeping uncontrollably.

He turned to the princess, tears streaming down his face. “I was blind with pride,” he said. “Forgive me for the pain I caused.”

The princess placed her hand on his head and said, “May your repentance be your redemption.”

The old man and his son returned to their humble hut, forever changed. They lived the rest of their days in prayer and service, never again forgetting the mercy of God — who humbles the proud and lifts the humble.


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Moral: Pride leads to downfall, but true repentance brings divine forgiveness.