Yā Rabb, You named the scales by their character. Mawāzīn al-qisṭ. Scales of pure justice. Not of leniency. Not of harshness. Of qisṭ. And You said something at the same time that should make every believer's spine straighten and every kind word multiply: nothing escapes them. La tuẓlamu nafsun shayʾan. Not a soul will be wronged in the slightest. And in the next breath: wa in kāna mithqāla ḥabbatin min khardalin ataynā bihā. If a deed has the weight of a mustard seed, We will bring it. Ya Allāh, every small deed. Every small. The smile in the elevator. The two-minute istighfār in the car. The five dollars dropped quietly into the masjid box. The held tongue when a sister was being slandered. Each one is being brought, by You personally, to a scale You yourself called qisṭ. And every small wrong, too. The sigh at the parent's question. The tone with the spouse at 11 p.m. The fifteen seconds of envy at a peer's announcement. Bring them to me in this dunyā, ya Rabb, while there is still time to repent, so that on the Day You do not need to bring them at all. Wa kafā binā ḥāsibīn. You are sufficient as Reckoner. You do not need angels to remind You of my deeds; You are Yourself the One who records. Ya Allāh, place me among those whose mustard-seed-deeds outweigh their mustard-seed-sins by Your mercy. Multiply the small good. Forgive the small evil. And let me, every Tuesday afternoon for the rest of my life, live as if the mawāzīn al-qisṭ are watching me from one room over, because they are. Āmīn ya Muḥsī ya Ḥasīb.