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His undersides are like sharp potsherds, leaving a trail in the mud like a threshing sledge.

He makes the deep to boil like a pot.

He makes the sea like a pot of ointment.

He makes a path shine after him.

One would think the deep had white hair.

On earth there is not his equal, that is made without fear. He sees everything that is high.

He is king over all the sons of pride.”