Job41

¹ Can you draw out Leviathan with a fishhook or press down his tongue with a cord?

² Can you put a rope in his nose or pierce his jaw with a hook?

³ Will he make many pleas to you? Will he speak to you soft words?

⁴ Will he make a covenant with you to take him for your servant forever?

⁵ Will you play with him as with a bird, or will you put him on a leash for your girls?

⁶ Will traders bargain over him? Will they divide him up among the merchants?

⁷ Can you fill his skin with harpoons or his head with fishing spears?

⁸ Lay your hands on him; remember the battle —you will not do it again!

⁹ Behold, the hope of a man is false; he is laid low even at the sight of him.

¹⁰ No one is so fierce that he dares to stir him up. Who then is he who can stand before me?

¹¹ Who has first given to me, that I should repay him? Whatever is under the whole heaven is mine.

¹² I will not keep silence concerning his limbs, or his mighty strength, or his goodly frame.

¹³ Who can strip off his outer garment? Who would come near him with a bridle?

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

¹⁵ His back is made of rows of shields, shut up closely as with a seal.

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

¹⁷ They are joined one to another; they clasp each other and cannot be separated.

¹⁸ His sneezings flash forth light, and his eyes are like the eyelids of the dawn.

¹⁹ Out of his mouth go flaming torches; sparks of fire leap forth.

²⁰ Out of his nostrils comes forth smoke, as from a boiling pot and burning rushes.

²¹ His breath kindles coals, and a flame comes forth from his mouth.

²² In his neck abides strength, and terror dances before him.

²³ The folds of his flesh stick together, firmly cast on him and immovable.

²⁴ His heart is hard as a stone, hard as the lower millstone.

²⁵ When he raises himself up the mighty are afraid; at the crashing they are beside themselves.

²⁶ Though the sword reaches him, it does not avail, nor the spear, the dart, or the javelin.

²⁷ He counts iron as straw, and bronze as rotten wood.

²⁸ The arrow cannot make him flee; for him sling stones are turned to stubble.

²⁹ Clubs are counted as stubble; he laughs at the rattle of javelins.

³⁰ His underparts are like sharp potsherds; he spreads himself like a threshing sledge on the mire.

³¹ He makes the deep boil like a pot; he makes the sea like a pot of ointment.

³² Behind him he leaves a shining wake; one would think the deep to be white-haired.

³³ On earth there is not his like, a creature without fear.

³⁴ He sees everything that is high; he is king over all the sons of pride.