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Job 41
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1“Can you draw out Leviathan with a fishhook,
- or press down his tongue with a cord?
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2Can you put a rope into his nose,
- or pierce his jaw through with a hook?
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3Will he make many petitions to you,
- or will he speak soft words to you?
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4Will he make a covenant with you,
- that you should take him for a servant forever?
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5Will you play with him as with a bird?
- Or will you bind him for your girls?
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6Will traders barter for him?
- Will they part him among the merchants?
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7Can you fill his skin with barbed irons,
- or his head with fish spears?
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8Lay your hand on him.
- Remember the battle, and do so no more.
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9Behold, the hope of him is in vain.
- Won’t one be cast down even at the sight of him?
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10None is so fierce that he dare stir him up.
- Who then is he who can stand before me?
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11Who has first given to me, that I should repay him?
- Everything under the heavens is mine.
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12“I will not keep silence concerning his limbs,
- nor his mighty strength, nor his goodly frame.
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13Who can strip off his outer garment?
- Who shall come within his jaws?
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14Who can open the doors of his face?
- Around his teeth is terror.
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15Strong scales are his pride,
- shut up together with a close seal.
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16One is so near to another,
- that no air can come between them.
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17They are joined one to another.
- They stick together, so that they can’t be pulled apart.
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18His sneezing flashes out light.
- His eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.
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19Out of his mouth go burning torches.
- Sparks of fire leap forth.
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20Out of his nostrils a smoke goes,
- as of a boiling pot over a fire of reeds.
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21His breath kindles coals.
- A flame goes forth from his mouth.
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22There is strength in his neck.
- Terror dances before him.
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23The flakes of his flesh are joined together.
- They are firm on him.
- They can’t be moved.
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24His heart is as firm as a stone,
- yes, firm as the lower millstone.
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25When he raises himself up, the mighty are afraid.
- They retreat before his thrashing.
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26If one attacks him with the sword, it can’t prevail;
- nor the spear, the dart, nor the pointed shaft.
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27He counts iron as straw;
- and brass as rotten wood.
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28The arrow can’t make him flee.
- Sling stones are like chaff to him.
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29Clubs are counted as stubble.
- He laughs at the rushing of the javelin.
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30His undersides are like sharp potsherds,
- leaving a trail in the mud like a threshing sledge.
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31He makes the deep to boil like a pot.
- He makes the sea like a pot of ointment.
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32He makes a path shine after him.
- One would think the deep had white hair.
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33On earth there is not his equal,
- that is made without fear.
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34He sees everything that is high.
- He is king over all the sons of pride.”
