Job 39
Or canst thou mark when the hinds do calve?
Or knowest thou the time when they bring forth?
They cast out their pains.
They go forth, and return not again.
Or who hath loosed the bonds of the swift ass,
And the salt land his dwelling-place?
Neither heareth he the shoutings of the driver.
And he searcheth after every green thing.
Or will he abide by thy crib?
Or will he harrow the valleys after thee?
Or wilt thou leave to him thy labor?
And gather the grain of thy threshing-floor?
But are they the pinions and plumage of love?
And warmeth them in the dust,
Or that the wild beast may trample them.
Though her labor be in vain, she is without fear;
Neither hath he imparted to her understanding.
She scorneth the horse and his rider.
Hast thou clothed his neck with the quivering mane?
The glory of his snorting is terrible.
He goeth out to meet the armed men.
Neither turneth he back from the sword.
The flashing spear and the javelin.
Neither believeth he that it is the voice of the trumpet.
And he smelleth the battle afar off,
The thunder of the captains, and the shouting.
And stretcheth her wings toward the south?
And maketh her nest on high?
Upon the point of the cliff, and the stronghold.
Her eyes behold it afar off.
And where the slain are, there is she.