Once upon a time, there lived a king who had power over all nations and peoples. His courts were of richest splendor; his tables were heavy with finest food. Music and laughter and gaiety floated from inside his castle and it was always light. Clouds wrapped it in ethereal majesty. Travelers always stopped and looked at the castle for a long while, wishing they might know the king who built the marvelous structure. But none were able to reach it.

In the cold of winter, the king’s tailor entered the royal chambers with his latest sketches for the king’s wardrobe. The little man was proud of his accomplishments. He had selected the finest materials and woven them into the most beautiful garments that eyes had ever seen. They glittered like gold.

But the king was not pleased. He ordered the tailor out, vowing to make his own clothes. No one but the king knew what he wanted. The door to the throne room was shut and locked. Weeks passed, and from inside came the clacking of the loom. The royal court waited with anticipation to see what the king would make for himself. They knew they were bound to be blinded by the glory of it. Finally the day arrived. The doors opened and the king appeared.

Everyone, especially the tailor, gasped in surprise and horror. His Majesty was dressed in the simplest, cheapest, most unkingly garments imaginable. He had the choice of the world’s finest material, but he had chosen to wear the clothes of a beggar.

“I am going into the valley,” he said quietly.

A timeless classic, reprinted from HIS magazine, December 1962 and other years.