Some shook hands with each other, others threw their caps into the air, and then a few voices burst into the well-known verse of the church hymn: Nun danket alle Gott, Mit herzen, mund und haenden.
Of which our English translation runs: Now thank we all our God, With hands and hearts and voices.
And in a moment it was taken up by 30,000 deep voices, in a solemn chorus, the regimental bands at once joining in the jubilant thanksgiving.

Pious men were these honest, Protestant, hard-fighting soldiers; and very frequently, on their long marches, they beguiled the way by the stirring hymns of the church.

Keith and those around him stood bare-headed, as the hymn was sung, and not a word was spoken for some time after the strains had subsided.
"That is good to listen to," Keith said, breaking the silence.

"We have often heard the psalm singing of Cromwell's Ironsides spoken of, with something like contempt; but we can understand, now, how men who sing like that, with all their hearts, should be almost invincible." "It is the grandest thing that I have ever heard, marshal," Fergus said.

"Of course, I have heard them when they were marching, but it did not sound like this." "No, Fergus; it was the appropriateness of the occasion, and perhaps the depth of the feelings of the men, and our own sense of immense relief, that made it so striking.
"Listen! There is a fresh outburst of firing.