Study Desk

class="poetry"> "Look, any hope [of capturing him] is futile — one would fall prostrate at the very sight of him. No one is fierce enough to rouse him, so who can stand up to me? Who has given me anything and made me pay it back? Everything belongs to me under all of heaven. "I have more to say about his limbs, his strong talk, and his matchless strength. Who can strip off his [scaly] garment? Who can enter his jaws? Who can pry open the doors of his face, so close to his terrible teeth? "His pride is his rows of scales, tightly sealed together — one is so close to the next that no air can come between them; they are stuck one to another, interlocked and impervious. "When he sneezes, light flashes out; his eyes are like the shimmer of dawn. From his mouth go fiery torches, and sparks come flying out. His nostrils belch steam like a caldron boiling on the fire. His breath sets coals ablaze; flames pour from his mouth. "Strength resides in his neck, and dismay dances ahead of him [as he goes]. The layers of his flesh stick together; they are firm on him, immovable. His heart is as hard as a stone, yes, hard as a lower millstone. When he rears himself up, the gods are afraid, beside themselves in despair. "If a sword touches him, it won't stick; neither will a spear, or a dart, or a lance. He regards iron as straw and bronze as rotten wood. An arrow can't make him flee; for him, slingstones are so much chaff. Clubs count as hay, and he laughs at a quivering javelin. His belly is as sharp as fragments of pottery, so he moves across the mud like a threshing-sledge. "He makes the depths seethe like a pot, he makes the sea [boil] like a perfume kettle. He leaves a shining wake behind him, making the deep seem to have white hair. "On earth there is nothing like him, a creature without fear. He looks straight at all high things. He is king over all proud beasts."

class="poetry"> "Look, any hope [of capturing him] is futile — one would fall prostrate at the very sight of him. No one is fierce enough to rouse him, so who can stand up to me? Who has given me anything and made me pay it back? Everything belongs to me under all of heaven. "I have more to say about his limbs, his strong talk, and his matchless strength. Who can strip off his [scaly] garment? Who can enter his jaws? Who can pry open the doors of his face, so close to his terrible teeth? "His pride is his rows of scales, tightly sealed together — one is so close to the next that no air can come between them; they are stuck one to another, interlocked and impervious. "When he sneezes, light flashes out; his eyes are like the shimmer of dawn. From his mouth go fiery torches, and sparks come flying out. His nostrils belch steam like a caldron boiling on the fire. His breath sets coals ablaze; flames pour from his mouth. "Strength resides in his neck, and dismay dances ahead of him [as he goes]. The layers of his flesh stick together; they are firm on him, immovable. His heart is as hard as a stone, yes, hard as a lower millstone. When he rears himself up, the gods are afraid, beside themselves in despair. "If a sword touches him, it won't stick; neither will a spear, or a dart, or a lance. He regards iron as straw and bronze as rotten wood. An arrow can't make him flee; for him, slingstones are so much chaff. Clubs count as hay, and he laughs at a quivering javelin. His belly is as sharp as fragments of pottery, so he moves across the mud like a threshing-sledge. "He makes the depths seethe like a pot, he makes the sea [boil] like a perfume kettle. He leaves a shining wake behind him, making the deep seem to have white hair. "On earth there is nothing like him, a creature without fear. He looks straight at all high things. He is king over all proud beasts."

class="poetry"> "Look, any hope [of capturing him] is futile — one would fall prostrate at the very sight of him. No one is fierce enough to rouse him, so who can stand up to me? Who has given me anything and made me pay it back? Everything belongs to me under all of heaven. "I have more to say about his limbs, his strong talk, and his matchless strength. Who can strip off his [scaly] garment? Who can enter his jaws? Who can pry open the doors of his face, so close to his terrible teeth? "His pride is his rows of scales, tightly sealed together — one is so close to the next that no air can come between them; they are stuck one to another, interlocked and impervious. "When he sneezes, light flashes out; his eyes are like the shimmer of dawn. From his mouth go fiery torches, and sparks come flying out. His nostrils belch steam like a caldron boiling on the fire. His breath sets coals ablaze; flames pour from his mouth. "Strength resides in his neck, and dismay dances ahead of him [as he goes]. The layers of his flesh stick together; they are firm on him, immovable. His heart is as hard as a stone, yes, hard as a lower millstone. When he rears himself up, the gods are afraid, beside themselves in despair. "If a sword touches him, it won't stick; neither will a spear, or a dart, or a lance. He regards iron as straw and bronze as rotten wood. An arrow can't make him flee; for him, slingstones are so much chaff. Clubs count as hay, and he laughs at a quivering javelin. His belly is as sharp as fragments of pottery, so he moves across the mud like a threshing-sledge. "He makes the depths seethe like a pot, he makes the sea [boil] like a perfume kettle. He leaves a shining wake behind him, making the deep seem to have white hair. "On earth there is nothing like him, a creature without fear. He looks straight at all high things. He is king over all proud beasts."

class="poetry"> "Look, any hope [of capturing him] is futile — one would fall prostrate at the very sight of him. No one is fierce enough to rouse him, so who can stand up to me? Who has given me anything and made me pay it back? Everything belongs to me under all of heaven. "I have more to say about his limbs, his strong talk, and his matchless strength. Who can strip off his [scaly] garment? Who can enter his jaws? Who can pry open the doors of his face, so close to his terrible teeth? "His pride is his rows of scales, tightly sealed together — one is so close to the next that no air can come between them; they are stuck one to another, interlocked and impervious. "When he sneezes, light flashes out; his eyes are like the shimmer of dawn. From his mouth go fiery torches, and sparks come flying out. His nostrils belch steam like a caldron boiling on the fire. His breath sets coals ablaze; flames pour from his mouth. "Strength resides in his neck, and dismay dances ahead of him [as he goes]. The layers of his flesh stick together; they are firm on him, immovable. His heart is as hard as a stone, yes, hard as a lower millstone. When he rears himself up, the gods are afraid, beside themselves in despair. "If a sword touches him, it won't stick; neither will a spear, or a dart, or a lance. He regards iron as straw and bronze as rotten wood. An arrow can't make him flee; for him, slingstones are so much chaff. Clubs count as hay, and he laughs at a quivering javelin. His belly is as sharp as fragments of pottery, so he moves across the mud like a threshing-sledge. "He makes the depths seethe like a pot, he makes the sea [boil] like a perfume kettle. He leaves a shining wake behind him, making the deep seem to have white hair. "On earth there is nothing like him, a creature without fear. He looks straight at all high things. He is king over all proud beasts."

class="poetry"> "Look, any hope [of capturing him] is futile — one would fall prostrate at the very sight of him. No one is fierce enough to rouse him, so who can stand up to me? Who has given me anything and made me pay it back? Everything belongs to me under all of heaven. "I have more to say about his limbs, his strong talk, and his matchless strength. Who can strip off his [scaly] garment? Who can enter his jaws? Who can pry open the doors of his face, so close to his terrible teeth? "His pride is his rows of scales, tightly sealed together — one is so close to the next that no air can come between them; they are stuck one to another, interlocked and impervious. "When he sneezes, light flashes out; his eyes are like the shimmer of dawn. From his mouth go fiery torches, and sparks come flying out. His nostrils belch steam like a caldron boiling on the fire. His breath sets coals ablaze; flames pour from his mouth. "Strength resides in his neck, and dismay dances ahead of him [as he goes]. The layers of his flesh stick together; they are firm on him, immovable. His heart is as hard as a stone, yes, hard as a lower millstone. When he rears himself up, the gods are afraid, beside themselves in despair. "If a sword touches him, it won't stick; neither will a spear, or a dart, or a lance. He regards iron as straw and bronze as rotten wood. An arrow can't make him flee; for him, slingstones are so much chaff. Clubs count as hay, and he laughs at a quivering javelin. His belly is as sharp as fragments of pottery, so he moves across the mud like a threshing-sledge. "He makes the depths seethe like a pot, he makes the sea [boil] like a perfume kettle. He leaves a shining wake behind him, making the deep seem to have white hair. "On earth there is nothing like him, a creature without fear. He looks straight at all high things. He is king over all proud beasts."

class="poetry"> "Look, any hope [of capturing him] is futile — one would fall prostrate at the very sight of him. No one is fierce enough to rouse him, so who can stand up to me? Who has given me anything and made me pay it back? Everything belongs to me under all of heaven. "I have more to say about his limbs, his strong talk, and his matchless strength. Who can strip off his [scaly] garment? Who can enter his jaws? Who can pry open the doors of his face, so close to his terrible teeth? "His pride is his rows of scales, tightly sealed together — one is so close to the next that no air can come between them; they are stuck one to another, interlocked and impervious. "When he sneezes, light flashes out; his eyes are like the shimmer of dawn. From his mouth go fiery torches, and sparks come flying out. His nostrils belch steam like a caldron boiling on the fire. His breath sets coals ablaze; flames pour from his mouth. "Strength resides in his neck, and dismay dances ahead of him [as he goes]. The layers of his flesh stick together; they are firm on him, immovable. His heart is as hard as a stone, yes, hard as a lower millstone. When he rears himself up, the gods are afraid, beside themselves in despair. "If a sword touches him, it won't stick; neither will a spear, or a dart, or a lance. He regards iron as straw and bronze as rotten wood. An arrow can't make him flee; for him, slingstones are so much chaff. Clubs count as hay, and he laughs at a quivering javelin. His belly is as sharp as fragments of pottery, so he moves across the mud like a threshing-sledge. "He makes the depths seethe like a pot, he makes the sea [boil] like a perfume kettle. He leaves a shining wake behind him, making the deep seem to have white hair. "On earth there is nothing like him, a creature without fear. He looks straight at all high things. He is king over all proud beasts."

class="poetry"> "Look, any hope [of capturing him] is futile — one would fall prostrate at the very sight of him. No one is fierce enough to rouse him, so who can stand up to me? Who has given me anything and made me pay it back? Everything belongs to me under all of heaven. "I have more to say about his limbs, his strong talk, and his matchless strength. Who can strip off his [scaly] garment? Who can enter his jaws? Who can pry open the doors of his face, so close to his terrible teeth? "His pride is his rows of scales, tightly sealed together — one is so close to the next that no air can come between them; they are stuck one to another, interlocked and impervious. "When he sneezes, light flashes out; his eyes are like the shimmer of dawn. From his mouth go fiery torches, and sparks come flying out. His nostrils belch steam like a caldron boiling on the fire. His breath sets coals ablaze; flames pour from his mouth. "Strength resides in his neck, and dismay dances ahead of him [as he goes]. The layers of his flesh stick together; they are firm on him, immovable. His heart is as hard as a stone, yes, hard as a lower millstone. When he rears himself up, the gods are afraid, beside themselves in despair. "If a sword touches him, it won't stick; neither will a spear, or a dart, or a lance. He regards iron as straw and bronze as rotten wood. An arrow can't make him flee; for him, slingstones are so much chaff. Clubs count as hay, and he laughs at a quivering javelin. His belly is as sharp as fragments of pottery, so he moves across the mud like a threshing-sledge. "He makes the depths seethe like a pot, he makes the sea [boil] like a perfume kettle. He leaves a shining wake behind him, making the deep seem to have white hair. "On earth there is nothing like him, a creature without fear. He looks straight at all high things. He is king over all proud beasts."

When Iyov prayed for his friends, Adonai restored his fortunes; Adonai gave Iyov twice as much as he had had before.

Then all his brothers and sisters came to him, also all who had known him before, and they ate a meal with him in his house. They consoled and comforted him for all the evils Adonai had inflicted on him. Each one gave him a piece of silver and a gold ring.

Adonai blessed Iyov's later situation even more than his earlier one — he had 14,000 sheep, 6,000 camels, 1,000 pairs of oxen and 1,000 female donkeys.

After this, Iyov lived 140 years, long enough to see his sons and grandsons, four generations.

Their delight is in Adonai 's Torah; on his Torah they meditate day and night.

The earth's kings are taking positions, leaders conspiring together, against Adonai and his anointed.

Then in his anger he rebukes them, terrifies them in his fury.

Kiss the son, lest he be angry, and you perish along the way, when suddenly his anger blazes. How blessed are all who take refuge in him.

A psalm of David, when he fled from Avshalom his son:

With my voice I call out to Adonai , and he answers me from his holy hill. (Selah)

If a person will not repent, he sharpens his sword. He has bent his bow, made it ready;

he has also prepared for him weapons of death, his arrows, which he has made into burning shafts.

His mischief will return onto his own head, his violence will recoil onto his own skull. I thank Adonai for his righteousness and sing praise to the name of Adonai ‘Elyon.