Job 41:30
Under him `are' sharp points of clay, He spreadeth gold on the mire.
Under him `are' sharp points of clay, He spreadeth gold on the mire.
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23The flakes of his flesh have adhered -- Firm upon him -- it is not moved.
24His heart `is' firm as a stone, Yea, firm as the lower piece.
25From his rising are the mighty afraid, From breakings they keep themselves free.
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.
31He causeth to boil as a pot the deep, The sea he maketh as a pot of ointment.
32After him he causeth a path to shine, One thinketh the deep to be hoary.
23Against him rattle doth quiver, The flame of a spear, and a halbert.
7Dost thou fill with barbed irons his skin? And with fish-spears his head?
17He doth bend his tail as a cedar, The sinews of his thighs are wrapped together,
18His bones `are' tubes of brass, His bones `are' as a bar of iron.
9Against the flint he sent forth his hand, He overturned from the root mountains.
10Among rocks, brooks he hath cleaved, And every precious thing hath his eye seen.
19Casting me into mire, And I am become like dust and ashes.
16And He breaketh with gravel my teeth, He hath covered me with ashes.
4Sharp arrows of a mighty one, with broom-coals.
13Go round against me do his archers. He splitteth my reins, and spareth not, He poureth out to the earth my gall.
14He breaketh me -- breach upon breach, He runneth upon me as a mighty one.
10Hidden in the earth is his cord, And his trap on the path.
11Round about terrified him have terrors, And they have scattered him -- at his feet.
5The earth! from it cometh forth bread, And its under-part is turned like fire.
6A place of the sapphire `are' its stones, And it hath dust of gold.
30Lo, He hath spread over it His light, And the roots of the sea He hath covered,
24He fleeth from an iron weapon, Pass through him doth a bow of brass.
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.
15A pit he hath prepared, and he diggeth it, And he falleth into a ditch he maketh.
9He hath hedged my ways with hewn work, My paths He hath made crooked.
11He doth put in the stocks my feet, He doth watch all my paths.'
7Straitened are the steps of his strength, And cast him down doth his own counsel.
8For he is sent into a net by his own feet, And on a snare he doth walk habitually.
14And He hath broken it As the breaking of the potters' bottle, Beaten down -- He doth not spare, Nor is there found, in its beating down, A potsherd to take fire from the burning, And to draw out waters from a ditch.
11My ways He is turning aside, and He pulleth me in pieces, He hath made me a desolation.
19And he hath been reproved With pain on his bed, And the strife of his bones `is' enduring.
2Iron from the dust is taken, And `from' the firm stone brass.
3An end hath he set to darkness, And to all perfection he is searching, A stone of darkness and death-shade.
21Under shades he lieth down, In a secret place of reed and mire.
10He is bruised -- he boweth down, Fallen by his mighty ones hath the afflicted.
21They dig in a valley, and he rejoiceth in power, He goeth forth to meet the armour.
19Out of his mouth do flames go, sparks of fire escape.
17By a heap his roots are wrapped, A house of stones he looketh for.
24Terrify him do adversity and distress, They prevail over him As a king ready for a boaster.
9Whoso is removing stones is grieved by them, Whoso is cleaving trees endangered by them.
8And he taketh to him a potsherd to scrape himself with it, and he is sitting in the midst of the ashes.
7As one tilling and ripping up in the land, Have our bones been scattered at the command of Saul.
21His flesh is consumed from being seen, And high are his bones, they were not seen!
14His food in his bowels is turned, The bitterness of asps `is' in his heart.
10They cause to fall on themselves burning coals, Into fire He doth cast them, Into deep pits -- they arise not.