Job 20:24
He fleeth from an iron weapon, Pass through him doth a bow of brass.
He fleeth from an iron weapon, Pass through him doth a bow of brass.
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25One hath drawn, And it cometh out from the body, And a glittering weapon from his gall proceedeth. On him `are' terrors.
26All darkness is hid for his treasures, Consume him doth a fire not blown, Broken is the remnant in his tent.
27Reveal do the heavens his iniquity, And earth is raising itself against him.
22In the fulness of his sufficiency he is straitened. Every perverse hand doth meet him.
23It cometh to pass, at the filling of his belly, He sendeth forth against him The fierceness of His anger, Yea, He raineth on him in his eating.
22He laugheth at fear, and is not affrighted, And he turneth not back from the face of the sword.
23Against him rattle doth quiver, The flame of a spear, and a halbert.
24With trembling and rage he swalloweth the ground, And remaineth not stedfast Because of the sound of a trumpet.
26The sword of his overtaker standeth not, Spear -- dart -- and lance.
27He reckoneth iron as straw, brass as rotten wood.
28The son of the bow doth not cause him to flee, Turned by him into stubble are stones of the sling.
29As stubble have darts been reckoned, And he laugheth at the shaking of a javelin.
22And it casteth at him, and doth not spare, From its hand he diligently fleeth.
24Terrify him do adversity and distress, They prevail over him As a king ready for a boaster.
35Teaching my hands for battle, And brought down was a bow of brass by mine arms,
7And God doth shoot them `with' an arrow, Sudden have been their wounds,
15For from the face of destructions they fled, From the face of a stretched-out sword, And from the face of a trodden bow, And from the face of the grievousness of battle.
34Teaching my hands for battle, And a bow of brass was brought down by my arms.
26He runneth unto Him with a neck, With thick bosses of his shields.
23Till an arrow doth split his liver, As a bird hath hastened unto a snare, And hath not known that it `is' for its life.
13Go round against me do his archers. He splitteth my reins, and spareth not, He poureth out to the earth my gall.
11Round about terrified him have terrors, And they have scattered him -- at his feet.
12Hungry is his sorrow, And calamity is ready at his side.
13It consumeth the parts of his skin, Consume his parts doth death's first-born.
12He hath trodden His bow, And setteth me up as a mark for an arrow.
13He hath caused to enter into my reins The sons of His quiver.
12If `one' turn not, His sword he sharpeneth, His bow he hath trodden -- He prepareth it,
13Yea, for him He hath prepared Instruments of death, His arrows for burning pursuers He maketh.
16Gall of asps he sucketh, Slay him doth the tongue of a viper.
20In famine He hath redeemed thee from death, And in battle from the hands of the sword.
14His food in his bowels is turned, The bitterness of asps `is' in his heart.
18His bones `are' tubes of brass, His bones `are' as a bar of iron.
19He `is' a beginning of the ways of God, His Maker bringeth nigh his sword;
7They are melted as waters, They go up and down for themselves, His arrow proceedeth as they cut themselves off.
14And perished hath refuge from the swift, And the strong strengtheneth not his power, And the mighty delivereth not his soul.
15And the handler of the bow standeth not, And the swift with his feet delivereth not `himself', And the rider of the horse delivereth not his soul.
21A fearful voice `is' in his ears, In peace doth a destroyer come to him.
22He believeth not to return from darkness, And watched `is' he for the sword.
14A sword have the wicked opened, And they have trodden their bow, To cause to fall the poor and needy, To slaughter the upright of the way.
15Their sword doth enter into their own heart, And their bows are shivered.
11And he giveth it for polishing, For laying hold of by the hand. It is sharpened -- the sword -- and polished, To give it into the hand of a slayer.
7Dost thou fill with barbed irons his skin? And with fish-spears his head?
30He turneth not aside from darkness, His tender branch doth a flame dry up, And he turneth aside at the breath of His mouth!
4For arrows of the Mighty `are' with me, Whose poison is drinking up my spirit. Terrors of God array themselves `for' me!
12Doth one break iron -- northern iron, and brass?
6and a frontlet of brass `is' on his feet, and a javelin of brass between his shoulders,
8As a dream he fleeth, and they find him not, And he is driven away as a vision of the night,
9Before your pots discern the bramble, As well the raw as the heated He whirleth away.
25Without bereave doth the sword, And at the inner-chambers -- fear, Both youth and virgin, Suckling with man of grey hair.
4To shoot in secret places the perfect, Suddenly they shoot him, and fear not.