A traveler was crossing a long road when he saw, by the edge of a thicket, a fox lying on the ground. The fox was missing both forelegs. The traveler's first thought was pity — how could a creature so broken survive in the open?
Before he could go on, a lion appeared from the brush, dragging the body of a fresh kill. The lion ate its fill. Then — though no one had asked it — the lion tore off a portion of meat with its teeth and laid it beside the fox before walking back into the trees.
The traveler watched, struck. He said to himself, "If God provides even for a fox with no legs, why should I labor and worry? I will trust as the fox trusts."
He went home, sold his tools, and sat by the roadside waiting for what providence would send him.
Days passed. He grew thin. A wise old man came down the road and stopped to ask why he was fasting. The traveler told him about the fox and the lion, and about his decision to live by faith alone.
The wise man was silent for a long moment.
"Brother," he said softly, "you were given two strong hands and two strong feet. Why did you choose the part of the crippled fox? Why not the part of the lion?"
— after Saadi, Gulistan · 1258