Points of potsherds are under him; he spreads sharp pointed marks on the mire.
Darts are counted as straw; he laughs at the shaking of a javelin.
He makes the deep boil like a pot; he makes the sea like a pot of ointment.
Behold, I make you a new sharp threshing instrument, a master of teeth; you shall thresh the mountains, and beat them small, and shall make the hills like chaff.