After the Sunday service, the pastor's sermon stayed with me all week.

At dusk the old bard would sermon of heroes to the villagers, his voice like wind through reeds.

At the town hall meeting, sermonizers dominated the conversation, offering unsolicited advice to anyone who would listen.

The old sermonizer stood at the pulpit, reminding the congregation of kindness and humility.

Despite the setting, his sermonic remarks felt more like a heartfelt plea than a formal lecture.

The sermoners at the old chapel spoke with such authority that many villagers changed their lives.

The village sermoner, with his thin voice and tattered robe, warned everyone that the harvest would suffer if they ignored his counsel.

The mayor sighed at the endless sermoning, knowing there was no easy answer to the town's grievances.

After the meeting, he kept sermoning about punctuality until everyone left.

The committee's endless sermonings about workplace etiquette left everyone zoning out.