In his neck remains strength, and sorrow is turned into dancing before him.
Have you given the horse strength? have you clothed his neck with thunder?
Lo now, his strength is in his loins, and his force is in the muscles of his belly.
His breath kindles coals, and a flame goes out of his mouth.
The folds of his flesh are joined together: they are firm on him; they cannot be moved.
I will ransom them from the power of the grave; I will redeem them from death: O death, I will be your plagues; O grave, I will be your destruction: pity shall be hid from my eyes.