41:1 Can you draw out Leviathan with a fishhook? Or press down his tongue with a cord?

41:2 Can you put a rope into his nose? Or pierce his jaw through with a hook?

41:3 Will he make many petitions to you? Or will he speak soft words to you?

41:4 Will he make a covenant with you, That you should take him for a servant forever?

41:5 Will you play with him as with a bird? Or will you bind him for your girls?

41:6 Will traders barter for him? Will they part him among the merchants?

41:7 Can you fill his skin with barbed irons, Or his head with fish-spears?

41:8 Lay your hand on him. Remember the battle, and do so no more.

41:9 Behold, the hope of him is in vain. Will not one be cast down even at the sight of him?

41:10 None is so fierce that he dare stir him up. Who then is he who can stand before me?

41:11 Who has first given to me, that I should repay him? Everything under the heavens is mine.

41:12 I will not keep silence concerning his limbs, Nor his mighty strength, nor his goodly frame.

41:13 Who can strip off his outer garment? Who shall come within his jaws?

41:14 Who can open the doors of his face? Around his teeth is terror.

41:15 Strong scales are his pride, Shut up together with a close seal.

41:16 One is so near to another, That no air can come between them.

41:17 They are joined one to another; They stick together, so that they can`t be pulled apart.

41:18 His sneezing flashes forth light, His eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.

41:19 Out of his mouth go burning torches, Sparks of fire leap forth.

41:20 Out of his nostrils a smoke goes, As of a boiling pot over a fire of reeds.

41:21 His breath kindles coals. A flame goes forth from his mouth.

41:22 In his neck there is strength. Terror dances before him.

41:23 The flakes of his flesh are joined together. They are firm on him. They can`t be moved.

41:24 His heart is as firm as a stone, Yes, firm as the lower millstone.

41:25 When he raises himself up, the mighty are afraid. They retreat before his thrashing.

41:26 If one lay at him with the sword, it can`t avail; Nor the spear, the dart, nor the pointed shaft.

41:27 He counts iron as straw; And brass as rotten wood.

41:28 The arrow can`t make him flee. Sling stones are like chaff to him.

41:29 Clubs are counted as stubble. He laughs at the rushing of the javelin.

41:30 His undersides are like sharp potsherds, Leaving a trail in the mud like a threshing sledge.

41:31 He makes the deep to boil like a pot. He makes the sea like a pot of ointment.

41:32 He makes a path to shine after him. One would think the deep had white hair.

41:33 On earth there is not his equal, That is made without fear.