Behold now, behemoth, which I made as well as thee; He eateth grass as an ox. Lo now, his strength is in his loins, And his force is in the muscles of his belly. He moveth his tail like a cedar: The sinews of his thighs are knit together. His bones are as tubes of brass; His limbs are like bars of iron. He is the chief of the ways of God: He only that made him giveth him his sword. Surely the mountains bring him forth food, Where all the beasts of the field do play. He lieth under the lotus-trees, In the covert of the reed, and the fen. The lotus-trees cover him with their shade; The willows of the brook compass him about. Behold, if a river overflow, he trembleth not; He is confident, though a Jordan swell even to his mouth. Shall any take him when he is on the watch, Or pierce through his nose with a snare?
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