Job 41
41
1Canst thou draw out leviathan with a fishhook?
Or press down his tongue with a cord?
2Canst thou put a rope into his nose?
Or pierce his jaw through with a hook?
3Will he make many supplications unto thee?
Or will he speak soft words unto thee?
4Will he make a covenant with thee,
That thou shouldest take him for a servant for ever?
5Wilt thou play with him as with a bird?
Or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens?
6Will the bands of fishermen make traffic of him?
Will they part him among the merchants?
7Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons,
Or his head with fish-spears?
8Lay thy hand upon him;
Remember the battle, and do so no more.
9Behold, the hope of him is in vain:
Will not one be cast down even at the sight of him?
10None is so fierce that he dare stir him up;
Who then is he that can stand before me?
11Who hath first given unto me, that I should repay him?
Whatsoever is under the whole heaven is mine.
12I will not keep silence concerning his limbs,
Nor his mighty strength, nor his goodly frame.
13Who can strip off his outer garment?
Who shall come within his jaws?
14Who 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.
16One is so near to another,
That no air can come between them.
17They are joined one to another;
They stick together, so that they cannot be sundered.
18His sneezings flash forth light,
And his eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.
19Out of his mouth go burning torches,
And sparks of fire leap forth.
20Out of his nostrils a smoke goeth,
As of a boiling pot and burning rushes.
21His breath kindleth coals,
And a flame goeth forth from his mouth.
22In his neck abideth strength,
And terror danceth before him.
23The flakes of his flesh are joined together:
They are firm upon him; they cannot be moved.
24His heart is as firm as a stone;
Yea, firm as the nether millstone.
25When he raiseth himself up, the mighty are afraid:
By reason of consternation they are beside themselves.
26If one lay at him with the sword, it cannot avail;
Nor the spear, the dart, nor the pointed shaft.
27He counteth iron as straw,
And brass as rotten wood.
28The arrow cannot make him flee:
Sling-stones are turned with him into stubble.
29Clubs are counted as stubble:
He laugheth at the rushing of the javelin.
30His underparts are like sharp potsherds:
He spreadeth as it were a threshing-wain upon the mire.
31He maketh the deep to boil like a pot:
He maketh the sea like a pot of ointment.
32He maketh a path to shine after him;
One would think the deep to be hoary.
33Upon earth there is not his like,
That is made without fear.
34He beholdeth everything that is high:
He is king over all the sons of pride.
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Job 41: ASV
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