Job41

¹ Canst thou draw out leviathan with a fishhook? Or press down his tongue with a cord?

² Canst thou put a rope into his nose? Or pierce his jaw through with a hook?

³ Will he make many supplications unto thee? Or will he speak soft words unto thee?

⁴ Will he make a covenant with thee, That thou shouldest take him for a servant for ever?

⁵ Wilt thou play with him as with a bird? Or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens?

⁶ Will the bands of fishermen make traffic of him? Will they part him among the merchants?

⁷ Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons, Or his head with fish-spears?

⁸ Lay thy hand upon him; Remember the battle, and do so no more.

⁹ Behold, the hope of him is in vain: Will not one be cast down even at the sight of him?

¹⁰ None is so fierce that he dare stir him up; Who then is he that can stand before me?

¹¹ Who hath first given unto me, that I should repay him? Whatsoever is under the whole heaven is mine.

¹² I will not keep silence concerning his limbs, Nor his mighty strength, nor his goodly frame.

¹³ Who can strip off his outer garment? Who shall come within his jaws?

¹⁴ Who can open the doors of his face? Round about his teeth is terror.

¹⁵ His strong scales are his pride, Shut up together as with a close seal.

¹⁶ One is so near to another, That no air can come between them.

¹⁷ They are joined one to another; They stick together, so that they cannot be sundered.

¹⁸ His sneezings flash forth light, And his eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.

¹⁹ Out of his mouth go burning torches, And sparks of fire leap forth.

²⁰ Out of his nostrils a smoke goeth, As of a boiling pot and burning rushes.

²¹ His breath kindleth coals, And a flame goeth forth from his mouth.

²² In his neck abideth strength, And terror danceth before him.

²³ The flakes of his flesh are joined together: They are firm upon him; they cannot be moved.

²⁴ His heart is as firm as a stone; Yea, firm as the nether millstone.

²⁵ When he raiseth himself up, the mighty are afraid: By reason of consternation they are beside themselves.

²⁶ If one lay at him with the sword, it cannot avail; Nor the spear, the dart, nor the pointed shaft.

²⁷ He counteth iron as straw, And brass as rotten wood.

²⁸ The arrow cannot make him flee: Sling-stones are turned with him into stubble.

²⁹ Clubs are counted as stubble: He laugheth at the rushing of the javelin.

³⁰ His underparts are like sharp potsherds: He spreadeth as it were a threshing-wain upon the mire.

³¹ He maketh the deep to boil like a pot: He maketh the sea like a pot of ointment.

³² He maketh a path to shine after him; One would think the deep to be hoary.

³³ Upon earth there is not his like, That is made without fear.

³⁴ He beholdeth everything that is high: He is king over all the sons of pride.