The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield, and patriot grave, to every living heart and hearthstone, all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature."
ðə mˈɪstɪk kˈɔːɹdz ʌv mˈɛmɚɹi, stɹˈɛtʃɪŋ fɹʌm ˈɛvɹi bˈæɾəlfˌiːld, ænd pˈeɪtɹɪət ɡɹˈeɪv, tʊ ˈɛvɹi lˈɪvɪŋ hˈɑːɹt ænd hˈɑːɹθstoʊn, ˈɔːl ˌoʊvɚ ðɪs bɹˈɔːd lˈænd, wɪl jˈɛt swˈɛl ðə kˈoːɹəs ʌvðə jˈuːniən, wˌɛn ɐɡˈɛn tˈʌtʃt, æz ʃˈʊɹli ðeɪ wɪl bˈiː, baɪ ðə bˈɛɾɚɹ ˈeɪndʒəlz ʌv ˌaʊɚ nˈeɪtʃɚ."