Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, JOB. OUT OF THE WHIRLWIND, by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

JOB. OUT OF THE WHIRLWIND, by                    
First Line: Gird up thy loins now like a man
Last Line: He beholdeth all high things: he is a king over all the children of pride.
Variant Title(s): Accinge Sicut


GIRD up thy loins now like a man: I will demand of thee, and declare thou unto
me.
Wilt thou also disannul my judgment? wilt thou condemn me, that thou mayest

be righteous?
Hast thou an arm like God? or canst thou thunder with a voice like him?
Deck thyself now with majesty and excellency; and array thyself with glory

and beauty.
Cast abroad the rage of thy wrath: and behold every one that is proud, and

abase him.
Look on every one that is proud, and bring him low; and tread down the
wicked in their place.
Hide them in the dust together; and bind their faces in secret.
Then will I also confess unto thee that thine own right hand can save thee.

Behold now behemoth, which I made with thee; he eateth grass as an ox.
Lo now, his strength is in his loins, and his force is in the navel of his

belly.
He moveth his tail like a cedar: the sinews of his stones are wrapped
together.
His bones are as strong pieces of brass; his bones are like bars of iron.
He is the chief of the ways of God: he that made him can make his sword to

approach unto him.
Surely the mountains bring him forth food, where all the beasts of the
field play.
He lieth under the shady trees, in the covert of the reed, and fens.
The shady trees cover him with their shadow; the willows of the brook
compass him about.
Behold he drinketh up a river, and hasteth not: he trusteth that he can
draw up Jordan into his mouth.
He taketh it with his eyes: his nose pierceth through snares.

CANST thou draw out leviathan with an hook? or his tongue with a cord which thou

lettest down?
Canst thou put an hook into his nose? or bore his jaw through with a thorn?

Will he make many supplications unto thee? will he speak soft words unto
thee?
Will he make a covenant with thee? wilt thou take him for a servant for
ever?
Wilt thou play with him as with a bird? or wilt thou bind him for thy
maidens?
Shall the companions make a banquet of him? shall they part him among the
merchants?
Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons? or his head with fish spears?
Lay thine hand upon him, remember the battle, do no more.
Behold, the hope of him is in vain: shall not one be cast down even at the

sight of him?
None is so fierce that dare stir him up: who then is able to stand before
me?
Who hath prevented me, that I should repay him? whatsoever is under the
whole heaven is mine.
I will not conceal his parts, nor his power, nor his comely proportion.
Who can discover the face of his garment? or who can come to him with his
double bridle?
Who can open the doors of his face? his teeth are terrible round about.
His scales are his pride, shut up together as with a close seal.
One is so near to another, that no air can come between them.
They are joined one to another, they stick together, that they cannot be
sundered.
By his neesings a light doth shine, and his eyes are like the eyelids of
the morning.
Out of his mouth go burning lamps, and sparks of fire leap out.
Out of his nostrils goeth smoke, as out of a seething pot or caldron.
His breath kindleth coals, and a flame goeth out of his mouth.
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.





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