Job 41

Canst thou draw out leviathan with a fishhook?

Canst thou put a rope into his nose?

Will he make many supplications unto thee?

Will he make a covenant with thee,

Wilt thou play with him as with a bird?

Will the bands of fishermen make traffic of him?

Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons,

Lay thy hand upon him;

Behold, the hope of him is in vain:

None is so fierce that he dare stir him up;

Who hath first given unto me, that I should repay him?

I will not keep silence concerning his limbs,

Who can strip off his outer garment?

Who can open the doors of his face?

His strong scales are his pride,

One is so near to another,

They are joined one to another;

His sneezings flash forth light,

Out of his mouth go burning torches,

Out of his nostrils a smoke goeth,

His breath kindleth coals,

In his neck abideth strength,

The flakes of his flesh are joined together:

His heart is as firm as a stone;

When he raiseth himself up, the mighty are afraid:

If one lay at him with the sword, it cannot avail;

He counteth iron as straw,

The arrow cannot make him flee:

Clubs are counted as stubble:

His underparts are like sharp potsherds:

He maketh the deep to boil like a pot:

He maketh a path to shine after him;

Upon earth there is not his like,

He beholdeth everything that is high: