Job 41
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| Canst thou draw out leviathan with a fishhook? Or press down his tongue with a cord? |
| Canst thou put a rope into his nose? Or pierce his jaw through with a hook? |
| Will he make many supplications unto thee? Or will he speak soft words unto thee? |
| Will he make a covenant with thee, That thou shouldest take him for a servant for ever? |
| Wilt thou play with him as with a bird? Or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens? |
| Will the bands [of fishermen] make traffic of him? Will they part him among the merchants? |
| Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons, Or his head with fish-spears? |
| Lay thy hand upon him; Remember the battle, and do so no more. |
| Behold, the hope of him is in vain: Will not one be cast down even at the sight of him? |
| None is so fierce that he dare stir him up; Who then is he that can stand before me? |
| Who hath first given unto me, that I should repay him? [Whatsoever is] under the whole heaven is mine. |
| I will not keep silence concerning his limbs, Nor his mighty strength, nor his goodly frame. |
| Who can strip off his outer garment? Who shall come within his jaws? |
| Who can open the doors of his face? Round about his teeth is terror. |
| [His] strong scales are [his] pride, Shut up together [as with] a close seal. |
| One is so near to another, That no air can come between them. |
| They are joined one to another; They stick together, so that they cannot be sundered. |
| His sneezings flash forth light, And his eyes are like the eyelids of the morning. |
| Out of his mouth go burning torches, And sparks of fire leap forth. |
| Out of his nostrils a smoke goeth, As of a boiling pot and [burning] rushes. |
| His breath kindleth coals, And a flame goeth forth from his mouth. |
| In his neck abideth strength, And terror danceth before him. |
| The flakes of his flesh are joined together: They are firm upon him; they cannot be moved. |
| His heart is as firm as a stone; Yea, firm as the nether millstone. |
| When he raiseth himself up, the mighty are afraid: By reason of consternation they are beside themselves. |
| If one lay at him with the sword, it cannot avail; Nor the spear, the dart, nor the pointed shaft. |
| He counteth iron as straw, [And] brass as rotten wood. |
| The arrow cannot make him flee: Sling-stones are turned with him into stubble. |
| Clubs are counted as stubble: He laugheth at the rushing of the javelin. |
| His underparts are [like] sharp potsherds: He spreadeth [as it were] a threshing-wain upon the mire. |
| He maketh the deep to boil like a pot: He maketh the sea like a pot of ointment. |
| He maketh a path to shine after him; One would think the deep to be hoary. |
| Upon earth there is not his like, That is made without fear. |
| He beholdeth everything that is high: He is king over all the sons of pride. |
