25 When he raises himself up, the mighty are afraid. They retreat before his thrashing.
26 If one lay at him with the sword, it can't avail; Nor the spear, the dart, nor the pointed shaft.
27 He counts iron as straw; And brass as rotten wood.
28 The arrow can't make him flee. Sling stones are like chaff to him.
29 Clubs are counted as stubble. He laughs at the rushing of the javelin.
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