ɐ fˈeɪvɚɹᵻt sˈɔŋ ˈɔːlweɪz kəŋklˈuːdᵻd ðoʊz lˈeɪt sˈʌndeɪ ˌæftɚnˈuːn mˈiːɾɪŋz, wˌɛn kˌæɹɪktɚɹˈɪstɪkli, ˈɔːl ðoʊz ɡˈæðɚd wʊd hˈoʊld hˈændz ɪn ɐ wˈaɪd sˈɜːkəl ðæt ɛŋkˈʌmpəst fɹˈiːkwəntli ðɪ ɛntˈaɪɚ sˈæŋktjuːˌɛɹi ʌvðə fˈɜːst ɹᵻfˈɔːɹmd tʃˈɜːtʃ.
A favorite song always concluded those late Sunday afternoon meetings, when characteristically, all those gathered would hold hands in a wide circle that encompassed frequently the entire sanctuary of the First Reformed Church.