Job 41:22-1953 kjv — In his neck remaineth strength, and sorrow is turned into joy before him. The flakes of his flesh are joined together:…

“In his neck abideth strength, And terror danceth before him. The flakes of his flesh are joined together: They are firm upon him; they cannot be moved. His heart is as firm as a stone; Yea, firm as the nether millstone. When he raiseth himself up, the mighty are afraid: By reason of consternation they are beside themselves. If one lay at him with the sword, it cannot avail; Nor the spear, the dart, nor the pointed shaft. He counteth iron as straw, And brass as rotten wood. The arrow cannot make him flee: Sling-stones are turned with him into stubble. Clubs are counted as stubble: He laugheth at the rushing of the javelin. His underparts are like sharp potsherds: He spreadeth as it were a threshing-wain upon the mire. He maketh the deep to boil like a pot: He maketh the sea like a pot of ointment. He maketh a path to shine after him; One would think the deep to be hoary. Upon earth there is not his like, That is made without fear. He beholdeth everything that is high: He is king over all the sons of pride. ”

“There is strength in his neck. Terror dances before him. The flakes of his flesh are joined together. They are firm on him. They can't be moved. His heart is as firm as a stone, yes, firm as the lower millstone. When he raises himself up, the mighty are afraid. They retreat before his thrashing. If one attacks him with the sword, it can't prevail; nor the spear, the dart, nor the pointed shaft. He counts iron as straw; and brass as rotten wood. The arrow can't make him flee. Sling stones are like chaff to him. Clubs are counted as stubble. He laughs at the rushing of the javelin. His undersides are like sharp potsherds, leaving a trail in the mud like a threshing sledge. He makes the deep to boil like a pot. He makes the sea like a pot of ointment. He makes a path shine after him. One would think the deep had white hair. On earth there is not his equal, that is made without fear. He sees everything that is high. He is king over all the sons of pride."”

“Strength lodges in its neck, and despair runs before it. The folds of its flesh are tightly joined; they are firm on it, immovable. Its heart is hard as rock, hard as a lower millstone. When it rises up, the mighty are terrified, at its thrashing about they withdraw. Whoever strikes it with a sword will have no effect, nor with the spear, arrow, or dart. It regards iron as straw and bronze as rotten wood. Arrows do not make it flee; slingstones become like chaff to it. A club is counted as a piece of straw; it laughs at the rattling of the lance. Its underparts are the sharp points of potsherds, it leaves its mark in the mud like a threshing sledge. It makes the deep boil like a cauldron and stirs up the sea like a pot of ointment, It leaves a glistening wake behind it; one would think the deep had a head of white hair. The likes of it is not on earth, a creature without fear. It looks on every haughty being; it is king over all that are proud.””

“He shall make the deep sea to boil like a pot, and shall make it as when ointments boil. A path shall shine after him, he shall esteem the deep as growing old. There is no power upon earth that can be compared with him who was made to fear no one. He beholdeth every high thing, he is king over all the children of pride. ”

“Strength is in his neck, and fear goes dancing before him. The plates of his flesh are joined together, fixed, and not to be moved. His heart is as strong as a stone, hard as the lower crushing-stone. When he gets ready for the fight, the strong are overcome with fear. The sword may come near him but is not able to go through him; the spear, or the arrow, or the sharp-pointed iron. Iron is to him as dry grass, and brass as soft wood. The arrow is not able to put him to flight: stones are no more to him than dry stems. A thick stick is no better than a leaf of grass, and he makes sport of the onrush of the spear. Under him are sharp edges of broken pots: as if he was pulling a grain-crushing instrument over the wet earth. The deep is boiling like a pot of spices, and the sea like a perfume-vessel. After him his way is shining, so that the deep seems white. On earth there is not another like him, who is made without fear. Everything which is high goes in fear of him; he is king over all the sons of pride.”

“In his neck remaineth strength, and sorrow is turned into joy before him. The flakes of his flesh are joined together: they are firm in themselves; they cannot be moved. His heart is as firm as a stone; yea, as hard as a piece of the nether millstone. When he raiseth up himself, the mighty are afraid: by reason of breakings they purify themselves. The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold: the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon. He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood. The arrow cannot make him flee: slingstones are turned with him into stubble. Darts are counted as stubble: he laugheth at the shaking of a spear. Sharp stones are under him: he spreadeth sharp pointed things upon the mire. He maketh the deep to boil like a pot: he maketh the sea like a pot of ointment. He maketh a path to shine after him; one would think the deep to be hoary. Upon earth there is not his like, who is made without fear. He beholdeth all high things: he is a king over all the children of pride. ”