Job

Who has gone before Me that I should repay? All that [is] the heavens is Mine.

I will not keep silent [concerning] his limbs, or [his] mighty strength, or the grace of his frame.

Who can take off the surface of his skin; who can come [to him] with his double bridle?

Who can open the doors to his face? Terror [is] round about his teeth.

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

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

they are joined one to another, they clasp each other so that they can not be separated.

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

Out of his mouth go burning torches, sparks of fire leap out.

Out of his nostrils goes smoke, as [out] of a boiling pot [fired] by reeds.

His breath kindles coals, and a flame goes out of his mouth.

In his neck remains strength, and terror dances before him.

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

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

The mighty are afraid from his rising; they are beside themselves from the crashing.

The sword overtakes him, [but] will not hold firm. The spear, the dart, and the javelin [also].

He counts iron as straw, bronze as rotten wood.

An arrow cannot make him flee; slingstones are turned by him into stubble.

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

Points of potsherds [are] under him; he spreads sharp pointed [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] gray-headed.

On earth there is nothing like him, one made without fear.

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