It is early. I lie awake before rising. There is some light stealing through the window. Evidently it is morning. But why do I not hear the roar and rattle of vehicles upon the street? The noise is often so great, that in summer we must close the sash to hear the reading and prayer at our family worship. But now we might throw them wide open and not be annoyed. What has made the change? I rise; all is explained! It has snowed! Heaven has been at work, not only giving the turbulent city Sabbath-like quiet, but clothing it in a garment of completest purity. Would it have been possible for man, by any appliance in his power, to have thrown this hush and quiet over the busy city, causing traffic to run noiselessly, and hoofs to tread silently; and the city to move as if on wings instead of wheels? Had this been attempted, what a world of engineering and of toil there must have been; and how imperfect the result. Yet how easily, speedily and effectually heaven accomplished it! Softly and silently the snowflakes came whispering as they fell, "The weakness of God is stronger than men." And so quietly was it all accomplished, as not to awake a single sleeper. This quiet was not secured by suspending the traffic. That goes on as before. The plodding to and fro; the tramping of the feet of commerce, and the turning of the wheels of traffic. These go on as before. The reign of noisy confusion only has been terminated by throwing over earth a garment of purity and a hush of heavenly peace.