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Jobin kirjaLuku 39

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Do you know when the mountain goats give birth? Do you watch over the doe in her labor?
Can you count the months they carry their young? Do you know the time of their delivery,
when they crouch down and bring forth their offspring, and their labor pains are past?
Their young grow strong and thrive in the open; they leave and do not return.
Who set the wild donkey free? Who untied his ropes?
I gave him the wasteland as his home, the salt flats as his dwelling place.
He laughs at the noise of the town; he never hears the driver's shouts.
He roams the hills for pasture, searching out every green thing.
Will the wild ox consent to serve you? Will he spend the night beside your stall?
Can you tie him with ropes to the furrow? Will he break up the valleys behind you?
Can you trust him because his strength is great? Will you leave your labor to him?
Can you count on him to bring in your grain and gather it to your threshing floor?
The ostrich flaps her wings in joy, but they are no match for the pinions and plumage of the stork.
She leaves her eggs on the ground and lets the dust keep them warm,
forgetting that a foot may crush them, that a wild animal may trample them.
She is hard on her young, as if they were not hers; her labor is wasted, and she has no fear,
for God made her forget wisdom and gave her no share of understanding.
Yet when she rises up to run, she laughs at the horse and its rider.
Do you give the horse his strength? Do you clothe his neck with a flowing mane?
Do you make him leap like a locust, striking terror with his proud snorting?
He paws the valley floor, exulting in his power, and charges out to meet the weapons.
He laughs at fear and is not dismayed; he does not turn back from the sword.
The quiver rattles against his side, along with the flashing spear and lance.
Trembling with fury, he devours the ground; he cannot stand still when the trumpet sounds.
At the blast of the horn he cries, "Aha!" He catches the scent of battle far off, the thunder of commanders and the war cry.
Does the hawk take flight by your understanding, spreading his wings toward the south?
Is it at your command that the eagle soars and builds his nest on high?
He dwells on the cliff and lodges there; the rocky crag is his fortress.
From there he spies out his prey; his eyes see it far away.
His young ones feast on blood, and wherever the slain are, there he is.
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