28. The arrow cannot make him flee: slingstones are turned with him into stubble.
29. Clubs are counted as stubble: he laugheth at the rushing of the javelin.
30. His underparts are like sharp potsherds: he spreadeth as it were a threshing wain upon the mire.
31. He maketh the deep to boil like a pot: he maketh the sea like ointment.
32. He maketh a path to shine after him; one would think the deep to be hoary.