A Brahmin, fat and debonair,
Denied the Potency of Prayer!

"Absurd!" he scoffed, "to say that Gods
At ease on high would stoop to Clods

"And heed our million warring Prayers
To regulate our small Affairs!"

This Dogmatist of early days
Was lost within a jungle's maze.

Where, wildly ranging wide about
To find a pathway leading out.

Upon a Forest Codling's Shrine
He chanced, o'erhung with leaf and vine,

And -- wonder! horror! -- crouching there
A mighty Tiger, bowed in prayer!

(Tail curled, as may be well supposed,
Paws folded, eyes devoutly closed).

"Strong God," he heard the Tiger say,
"I pray thee, send to me a Prey!"

The trustful Tiger closed his Prayer. --
Behold! a Brahmin trembling there!

The Brahmin never scoffed a whit.
The Prayer had Answer -- He was It.