to give charity to the poor through me, to purify yourself by supporting the weak, and to repair ribāṭs, mosques, bridges, and causeways with me so that I might assist you on the Day of Resurrection. Instead, you amassed me and locked me away; you spent me only in pursuit of your desires; you never thanked me for my right but rather denied it. Now you leave me to your enemies while you depart in sorrow and distress. What sin have I committed that you curse me?’
At that very moment the Angel of Death seized his soul before he could taste the food, and he fell from his couch—struck down by death.
The Third Story
Yazīd al-Raqāshī said: During the time of the Children of Israel there was once a mighty tyrant. One day, while he sat upon his royal throne, he saw a man enter through the palace door—someone of dreadful appearance and fearsome stature. Alarmed by his sudden arrival and awed by his presence, the king leapt toward him and demanded, ‘Who are you, O man? Who gave you permission to enter my palace?’
The stranger answered, ‘I am the master of this house. No chamberlain can bar my way; when I enter upon a king I need no audience. I do not fear the policies of any ruler, no tyrant intimidates me, and no one can escape my grasp.’
When the king heard these words he collapsed on his face, trembling uncontrollably. He asked, ‘Are you the Angel of Death?’ He replied, ‘Yes.’
The king pleaded, ‘I adjure you by Allah, grant me but one day so that I may repent of my sins, seek pardon from my Lord, and return the wealth stored in my treasuries, lest I bear the torment of its burden in the Hereafter.’
The angel said, ‘How can I grant you respite when the days of your life are numbered and each moment is already recorded?’
The king begged, ‘Then give me one hour.’ The angel replied, ‘The hours have been counted; they passed while you were heedless. Your allotted breaths have been exhausted, and not a single one remains.’
He asked, ‘Who will stay with me when you carry me to my grave?’ The angel said, ‘No one will be with you except your deeds.’
The tyrant cried, ‘But I have no deeds!’ The angel answered, ‘Then your resting place will be the Fire and your destination the wrath of the Almighty.’
With that he took his soul; the tyrant toppled from his throne onto his face. Lamentation rose and grew loud among the people of his kingdom, yet had they known to what he had gone and how great was his Lord’s anger, their weeping would have been far more intense and their wailing far greater.