The beauty of the church and its garden left a strong impression on visitors, as did the mood conveyed by the church service itself. A letter written in the 1890s describes the church service in the early days:

"Soon the people began to come in. We'll not call them a congregation because they seemed more like arriving guests. They drew chairs into groups, and smiled at or shook hands with or talked to each other. Although as a whole the company was the conventional one, if you happen to have an eye for picturesque types, you could find them here.

"Presently the painter of the landscapes on the wall slipped into the corner between the fireplace and 'the Old Oaks,' as if he fancied that distinguished head might pass unnoticed in the dim corner. And now another artist drifted in, since this has come to be a natural meeting place for them-- painters, musicians, architects, and writers. Some one poked a fallen log on the hearth in passing, and someone else pushed a swinging window to correct a glare.

"By and by the minister came-- a gentle, serene figure; the inspiring spirit of the place-- of a long, unbroken family line of ministers, and the dearly beloved and trusted of his people. He knelt by the side of the little reading desk and said the Lord's prayer in a monotone that was almost intoning. It was the only prayer of the service. He gave the lessons, the commandments, and the sermon in the same tone, with only one gesture and that an unconscious one. There was not the least attempt at oratory or effect. Some of the most comforting of the Psalms were chanted instead of responsively read. The singing was by the people, led by the minister, who stepped to the side of the little organ, played by a distinguished musician, leader of a musical club. He comes to play this tiny organ on Sundays, because he loves to. One doesn't need to be told that."