Shall we not lighten it by a song of praise?
Where is Brother Thistlethwaite, whose voice is as the cymbal, the tabor, and the dulcimer ?' 'Lo, most pious Master Pettigrue,' said Saxon, 'I have myself at times ventured to lift up my voice before the Lord.' Without any further apology he broke out in stentorian tones into the following hymn, the refrain of which was caught up by pastor and congregation.
The Lord He is a morion That guards me from all wound; The Lord He is a coat of mail That circles me all round.
Who then fears to draw the sword, And fight the battle of the Lord?
The Lord He is the buckler true That swings on my left arm; The Lord He is the plate of proof That shieldeth me from harm.
Who then fears to draw the sword, And fight the battle of the Lord?
Who then dreads the violent, Or fears the man of pride?
Or shall I flee from two or three If He be by my side?
Who then fears to draw the sword, And fight the battle of the Lord! My faith is like a citadel Girt round with moat and wall, No mine, or sap, or breach, or gap Can ere prevail at all.
Who then fears to draw the sword, And fight the battle of the Lord?
Saxon ceased, but the Reverend Joshua Pettigrue waved his long arms and repeated the refrain, which was taken up again and again by the long column of marching peasants.
'It is a godly hymn,' said our companion, who had, to my disgust and to the evident astonishment of Reuben and Sir Gervas, resumed the snuffling, whining voice which he had used in the presence of my father.
'It hath availed much on the field of battle.' 'Truly,' returned the clergyman, 'if your comrades are of as sweet a savour as yourself, ye will be worth a brigade of pikes to the faithful,' a sentiment which raised a murmur of assent from the Puritans around.

'Since, sir,' he continued, 'you have had much experience in the wiles of war, I shall be glad to hand over to you the command of this small body of the faithful, until such time as we reach the army.' 'It is time, too, in good faith, that ye had a soldier at your head,' Decimus Saxon answered quietly.

'My eyes deceive me strangely if I do not see the gleam of sword and cuirass upon the brow of yonder declivity.

Methinks our pious exercises have brought the enemy upon us.'.