Thematic study
Solomon's Supplications: Gratitude and Humility
A study of the two prayers Solomon (Sulayman) makes in the Quran — his grateful cry in 27:19 and his humble request in 38:35 — exploring what they reveal about thankfulness, power, and the heart that remembers to ask for forgiveness.
Among the many prophets the Quran describes, Solomon (Sulayman) stands out for his extraordinary kingdom — wind, birds, jinn, and a throne unlike any other. Yet what the Quran preserves most tenderly of him are not his treasures but his two short prayers: one spoken in delight at an ant's speech, one whispered on a hilltop of dust. Together they form a small school of gratitude and humility, showing that a heart can hold immense power and still bend low.
A Prophet of Splendor — and of Prayer
The Quran introduces Solomon as a servant deeply turned toward God: "How excellent a servant! Indeed, he was one who constantly turned back" []. The Arabic word awwāb (أَوَّاب), an intensive form meaning "one who returns again and again," paints him as someone whose heart kept coming home to God. His wealth is described just before this — mountains singing praise with him at dusk [] — as if his whole kingdom were a choir. The study of his duas begins here: power in the Quran is never condemned, but it is always tested by what the powerful heart does with it.
The Speech of the Ants
The scene of the first prayer unfolds in Surah An-Naml, "The Ant." Solomon marches with his armies of men, jinn, and birds toward the valley of the ants []. One tiny ant, sensing the approaching host, warns her colony to hide so they are not crushed unknowingly []. Solomon tabassama, "he smiled," laughing at her words []. The verb ḍaḥika and the noun ḍāḥikan carry a light, joyful laughter — a king amused and moved that even the smallest creature speaks and fears for her own.
"My Lord, Let Me Be Grateful"
In that same instant, Solomon turns his smile into a prayer — one of the most beloved duas in the Quran: "My Lord, inspire me that I may be thankful for Your favor which You bestowed on me and on my parents, and that I may do righteousness pleasing to You, and admit me by Your mercy among Your righteous servants" []. Notice what he asks for. Not more armies. Not longer life. He asks for the ability to be grateful — the Arabic an ashkura (أَنْ أَشْكُرَ), from the root sh-k-r, "to acknowledge a gift by word and deed." Gratitude, in his prayer, is not automatic; even thankfulness needs divine help. And he includes his parents, remembering that his gifts came through a lineage of blessing.
Gratitude That Overflows into Action
Solomon's prayer does not stop at feeling thankful. He asks to work ṣāliḥan tarḍāhu, "righteousness that You accept" []. In Quranic logic, thankfulness and action are twins: whoever is grateful serves. The Quran repeatedly links the two, saying God rewards the grateful [] and that "if you are grateful, I will surely increase you" []. Solomon's dua is thus a request to live inside that promise — to convert delight at an ant's speech into deeds that please God. His concluding request, to be gathered among His righteous servants ʿibādihiṣ-ṣāliḥīn, roots his hope not in his kingdom but in God's mercy and good company.
The Kingdom of Wind and Copper
Surah Sad then shows us the scale of what Solomon was thanking God for. The wind was subjected to him, flowing at his command []; the jinn built for him and dived for pearls; and molten copper qitr flowed like springs []. These passages situate his second prayer: this is a man who could command the weather and the deep. The Quran even notes the smiths and builders who worked for him [], and how his throne and his hosts were unlike anything given to others [ context, ]. Greatness surrounds him on every side — which makes what he asks for next all the more striking.
"Forgive Me, and Give Me a Kingdom..."
On a certain evening, a spirited horse distracts Solomon from the remembrance of God until sundown []. His response is immediate and piercing: "My Lord, forgive me and grant me a kingdom that shall not belong to any after me; indeed, You are the Generous Giver" []. The Arabic wahab (وَهَب) is a lavish gift, a grant given freely; ghufrānaka (غُفْرَانَكَ) means "Your forgiveness." Notice the order: forgiveness first, dominion second. And the kingdom he asks for is described as one lā yanbaghī li-aḥadin min baʿdī — "not fitting for any after me" — an unmatched realm. Commentators have long debated how to read this request: some see it as a prophetic prerogative unique to him, others as a test of how he would use unmatched power. The Quran leaves the exact nuance open; what it shows plainly is that even a request for grandeur is framed between repentance and trust in God's generosity.
A Kingdom Subdued — and a Lesson in Balance
God answers both prayers. After , the Quran shows the wind obeying him softly, wherever he directed [], and the jinn and every builder and diver bound before him []. Yet immediately the text returns to the same refrain: "This is Our bounty, so give or withhold without account" [] — the Arabic bilaḥisāb, "without reckoning," reminds Solomon that everything flows from God's free giving. And then the chilling note: "Indeed, for him is nearness to Us and a beautiful return" []. The verse shifts to the past tense — the true kingdom was never the wind or the copper, but qurba, nearness to God. Both of Solomon's duas aim at this: gratitude guards the heart from pride, and the plea for forgiveness guards it from forgetting the Giver.
The Throne, the Hoopoe, and the Convert of Sheba
The same Surah An-Naml that carries the ant's story shows Solomon's gratitude expressed as diplomacy. He sends the hoopoe bird to Sheba, learns of a queen who worships the sun [], and begins his letter not with threats but with bismillāhi r-raḥmāni r-raḥīm — "in the name of God, the Merciful" []. His first words to her envoys are about God's gifts: "Do you exalt? What God has given me is better than what He has given you" []. This is gratitude speaking — he knows his riches are a faḍl, a divine favor, not a personal achievement. And when the Queen of Sheba finally submits, saying she gives herself to the Lord of the worlds [], the story closes the circle: the grateful king becomes an instrument of guidance.
Death Seated on His Throne
One further passage deepens the theme of humility through sheer strangeness: when God decreed Solomon's death, nothing indicated it to the jinn except a creature of the earth eating his staff, so that when he fell, the jinn knew "that had they known the unseen, they would not have remained in humiliating punishment" []. The Quran also tells of his body remaining propped on his staff [ context]. A king who commanded jinn dies leaning on a stick of wood, and his unseen servants cannot tell. The lesson lands softly but firmly: power is a loan, and the unseen belongs to God alone. Solomon's own prayer for forgiveness [] reads differently after this — a man who knew how quickly the borrowed kingdom dissolves.
David and Solomon, a Family of Praise
Solomon's gratitude is also framed as inheritance. The Quran praises both father and son: "We blessed David and Solomon" [ context]; Solomon "understood" what his father judged []. Together they sang God's praise at evening and morning [], and David's own psalm of thanks — "Work gratefully, O family of David" [] — echoes through his son's dua. Solomon's request to be thankful "for me and for my parents" [] is thus not a polite flourish: it is the voice of a household where thankfulness was the family trade. The Quran explicitly counts Solomon among those marked by faḍl — divine favor — and among the chosen [, ].
What the Two Prayers Teach Us
Placed side by side, the duas of Solomon sketch a complete spiritual posture. The prayer at the ants' valley [] teaches that gratitude is learned, that joy can become worship, and that the small voices of creation can awaken the biggest hearts. The prayer of the evening ride [] teaches that even the most gifted among us need forgiveness, that requests are safest when wrapped in repentance, and that every kingdom — inner or outer — comes from the One who gives bilaḥisāb []. The Quran's final word on him remains the gentle one: excellent servant, awwāb, always returning []. Solomon's supplications invite every reader — teenager or elder, powerful or ordinary — to make the same two requests: "let me be grateful," and "forgive me." Few prayers are shorter; fewer still are fuller.
Solomon's story reminds us that greatness in the Quran is measured not by what a person commands, but by what the commanding heart remembers. Two whispered prayers — one of thanks, one of pardon — carried a king from copper fountains to nearness with God. May they teach our own hearts the same double movement of gratitude and humility.
