Job 41:1-34 WEB

[1] “Can you draw out Leviathan with a fish hook, or press down his tongue with a cord? [2] Can you put a rope into his nose, or pierce his jaw through with a hook? [3] Will he make many petitions to you, or will he speak soft words to you? [4] Will he make a covenant with you, that you should take him for a servant forever? [5] Will you play with him as with a bird? Or will you bind him for your girls? [6] Will traders barter for him? Will they part him among the merchants? [7] Can you fill his skin with barbed irons, or his head with fish spears? [8] Lay your hand on him. Remember the battle, and do so no more. [9] Behold, the hope of him is in vain. Won’t 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 who can stand before me? [11] Who has first given to me, that I should repay him? Everything under the heavens 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 will come within his jaws? [14] Who can open the doors of his face? Around his teeth is terror. [15] Strong scales are his pride, shut up together with a close seal. [16] One is so near to another, that no air can come between them. [17] They are joined to one another. They stick together, so that they can’t be pulled apart. [18] His sneezing flashes out light. His eyes are like the eyelids of the morning. [19] Out of his mouth go burning torches. Sparks of fire leap out. [20] Out of his nostrils a smoke goes, as of a boiling pot over a fire of reeds. [21] His breath kindles coals. A flame goes out of his mouth. [22] There is strength in his neck. Terror dances before him. [23] The flakes of his flesh are joined together. They are firm on him. They can’t be moved. [24] His heart is as firm as a stone, yes, firm as the lower millstone. [25] When he raises himself up, the mighty are afraid. They retreat before his thrashing. [26] If one attacks him with the sword, it can’t prevail; nor the spear, the dart, nor the pointed shaft. [27] He counts iron as straw, and bronze as rotten wood. [28] The arrow can’t make him flee. Sling stones are like chaff to him. [29] Clubs are counted as stubble. He laughs at the rushing of the javelin. [30] His undersides are like sharp potsherds, leaving a trail in the mud like a threshing sledge. [31] He makes the deep to boil like a pot. He makes the sea like a pot of ointment. [32] He makes a path shine after him. One would think the deep had white hair. [33] On earth there is not his equal, that is made without fear. [34] He sees everything that is high. He is king over all the sons of pride.”