Sunday Scriptures: Wildlife

In honor of the 400th anniversary of the translation of the Bible into English, commissioned by King James of England in 1611, and originally published by Robert Barker, printer to the King, I will use this version for the rest of this year in these posts. Hope we can enjoy the quaint differences we find here and appreciate all that went into it.

Job Chapter 39

Knowest thou the time when the wild goates of the rocke bring forth? or canst thou marke when the hindes doe calue?
Canst thou number the moneths that they fulfill? or knowest thou the time when they bring forth?
They bowe themselues, they bring forth their young ones, they cast out their sorrowes.
Their yong ones are in good liking, they grow vp with corne: they go forth, and returne not vnto them.
Who hath sent out the wild asse free? or who hath loosed the bands of the wild asse?
Whose house I haue made the wildernesse, and the barren lande his dwellings.
He scorneth the multitude of the citie, neither regardeth he the crying of the driuer.
The range of the mountaines is his pasture, and hee searcheth after euery greene thing.
Will the Vnicorne be willing to serue thee? or abide by thy cribbe?
Canst thou binde the Vnicorne with his band in the furrow? or will he harrow the valleyes after thee?
Wilt thou trust him because his strength is great? or wilt thou leaue thy labour to him?
Wilt thou beleeue him that hee will bring home thy seed? and gather it into thy barne?
Gauest thou the goodly wings vnto the peacocks, or wings and feathers vnto the Ostrich?
Which leaueth her egges in the earth, and warmeth them in dust,
And forgetteth that the foot may crush them, or that the wilde beast may breake them.
She is hardened against her yong ones, as though they were not hers: her labour is in vaine without feare.
Because God hath depriued her of wisedome, neither hath he imparted to her vnderstanding.
What time she lifteth vp her selfe on high, she scorneth the horse and his rider.
Hast thou giuen the horse strength? hast thou clothed his necke with thunder?
Canst thou make him afraid as a grashopper? the glory of his nostrils is terrible.
He paweth in the valley, and reioyceth in his strength: hee goeth on to meet the armed men.
He mocketh at feare, and is not affrighted: neither turneth he backe from the sword.
The quiuer ratleth against him, the glittering speare and the shield.
He swalloweth the ground with fiercenesse and rage: neither beleeueth he that it is the sound of the trumpet.
He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha: and he smelleth the battaile afarre off, the thunder of the captaines, and the shouting.
Doeth the hawke flie by thy wisedome, and stretch her wings toward the South?
Doeth the Eagle mount vp at thy commaund? and make her nest on high?
She dwelleth and abideth on the rocke, vpon the cragge of the rocke, and the strong place.
From thence she seeketh the pray, and her eyes behold a farre off.
Her yong ones also suck vp blood: and where the slaine are, there is he.

P.S. I picked these for you, all you moms out there. Enjoy!

moms bouquet

Mothers' Day Bouquet

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