Leigh Hunt

Abou Ben Adhem

Abou Ben Adhem.
"Abou Ben Adhem" has won its way to the popular heart because the "Brotherhood of Man" is the motto of this age. (1784-1859.)

Abou Ben Adhem

Ibrahim ibn Adham—8th-century prince who renounced his throne to become a Sufi mystic. Hunt's using Islamic mysticism to challenge Christian orthodoxy.

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold.

book of gold

The Book of Life from Revelation 20:15, which lists those saved for heaven. Hunt's angel is literally doing the accounting of souls.

Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold;
And to the presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?" The vision raised its head,
And, with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."

Nay, not so

The angel excludes him—Abou doesn't make the list of those who love God. This is the poem's hinge: does loving humanity count as loving God?

"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men."
The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again, with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed;
And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

led all the rest

The reversal: loving fellow humans puts him first among those who love God. Hunt's arguing that ethics trumps theology.

Leigh Hunt.
Source Wikipedia Poetry Foundation

Reading Notes

The Sufi Mystic vs. Victorian Christianity

Hunt published this in 1838, when choosing a Muslim hero was deliberate provocation. Ibrahim ibn Adham was a real historical figure—a prince of Balkh (in modern Afghanistan) who abandoned wealth for ascetic devotion. Hunt's using him to bypass Christianity entirely and ask: what does God actually value?

The poem's structure is a theological argument disguised as a bedtime story. Abou fails the first test ("those who love the Lord") but wins the second ("whom love of God had blessed"). Hunt's making a distinction: direct worship versus ethical action. The angel's reversal suggests loving humanity *is* loving God—a radical claim that sidesteps doctrine for deeds.

Notice Hunt never explains why Abou's name "led all the rest." The poem trusts you to catch the implication: compassion for humans matters more than professions of faith. For 1838 readers steeped in evangelical Christianity, this was borderline heretical—salvation through works, not grace, and from a Muslim no less.

What Hunt Cuts Out

The poem's power is in what it doesn't say. No explanation of why Abou wasn't on the first list. No theological justification for the reversal. No conversion, no baptism, no Jesus. Hunt gives you a fairy-tale frame ("once upon a time an angel appeared") and sneaks in a moral philosophy.

The tone does crucial work here. "May his tribe increase" is playful, almost comic—Hunt's winking at you, acknowledging the fantasy. "Cheerly still" after being rejected shows Abou's unshaken confidence in his own values. He doesn't argue theology; he just asks to be recorded accurately. The angel doesn't debate either—it just writes and leaves. Hunt's making the reversal feel inevitable, not miraculous.

That 1784-1859 editorial note is telling: the editor calls "Brotherhood of Man" the "motto of this age," trying to naturalize Hunt's radicalism. But in 1838, this wasn't consensus—it was argument. Hunt's using a 1,000-year-old Sufi saint to sell humanism to Victorian England.