He `is' a beginning of the ways of God, His Maker bringeth nigh his sword;
By His Spirit the heavens He beautified, Formed hath His hand the fleeing serpent.
Lo, I pray thee, Behemoth, that I made with thee: Grass as an ox he eateth.
His bones `are' tubes of brass, His bones `are' as a bar of iron.
There is not on the earth his like, That is made without terror.
How many have been Thy works, O Jehovah, All of them in wisdom Thou hast made, Full is the earth of thy possessions.
If `one' turn not, His sword he sharpeneth, His bow he hath trodden -- He prepareth it,
In that day lay a charge doth Jehovah, With his sword -- the sharp, and the great, and the strong, On leviathan -- a fleeing serpent, And on leviathan -- a crooked serpent, And He hath slain the dragon that `is' in the sea.