The Book of Job

None [is so] fierce as to dare to stir him up. Who then [is] able to stand before Me?

Who has gone before Me that I should repay? All under the heavens, it [is] Mine!

I will not keep silent [as to] his limbs, or the matter of [his] powers, or the grace of his frame.

Who can take off the face of his covering; who can come with his double bridle?

Who can pry open the doors of his face? Terror [is] all around his teeth.

The rows of shields [are] his pride, shut up with a tight seal;

one is so near to another that no air can come between them;

they are joined to one another; they clasp each other, so that they cannot be separated.

His sneezings flash forth light, and his eyes [are] as the eyelids of the dawn.

Out of his mouth go burning torches; sparks of fire fly out.

Smoke goes out of his nostrils like a boiling pot [fired] by reeds.

His breath kindles coals and the flame goes out from his mouth.

Strength abides in his neck and terror dances before him.

The folds of flesh cleave together, cast firm on him; he cannot be moved.

His heart is cast hard as a stone, even cast hard as a piece of riding millstone.

The mighty are afraid from his arising; from the crashings they miss the way.

The sword overtakes him, [but] will not hold firm, [nor] the spear, the dart, or the javelin.

He counts iron as straw, bronze as rotten wood.

A son of a bow cannot make him flee; slingstones are turned to stubble by him;

darts are counted as straw; he laughs at the shaking of a javelin.

Points of potsherds [are] under him; he spreads sharp [marks] on the mire.

He makes the deep boil like a pot; he makes the sea like a pot of ointment;

he makes a path to shine after him; one would think the deep [to be] grayheaded.

There is nothing like him on earth, one made without fear.

He beholds all high [things]; he [is] king over all the sons of pride.