Chapter 41 | |
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. |