If he comes by and confines you and convenes a court, then who can prevent him?

If he flees from an iron weapon, then an arrow from a bronze bow pierces him.

My glory will always be fresh in me, and my bow ever new in my hand.’

Then a breath of air passes by my face; it makes the hair of my flesh stand up.

They glide by like reed boats, like an eagle that swoops down on its prey.

If he passes by me, I cannot see him, if he goes by, I cannot perceive him.

“But there is hope for a tree: If it is cut down, it will sprout again, and its new shoots will not fail.