WORK FOR GOD.

left to them. But they were not all charged alike. While some had five talents, and some two, there was a man found who was supposed capable of only one. But he had his one, and to all was the same injunction given, "Occupy till I come." What a chaos would our daily life become, if every one were to throw up his employment, because it did not seem sufficiently dignified and important. Revert to St. Paul's Cathedral. It would never have risen a yard above the ground if each man had not been content to abide in his calling, and to discharge his own duties, without meddling with his neighbour's. No doubt all would have liked to have possessed the talents of Wren, or the capital of the contractors. But their likes, if they had interfered with their work, would have deprived us of St. Paul's.

All, then, may do something. And what will our readers do? Our pages cannot be expected to tell them. Let everyone do good as he hath opportunity. The liberal mind must devise liberal things for itself. "Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." And again, "If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, and one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled; notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body, what doth it profit? Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone.”

Let every one who reads these things in God's word, seek to work for God. Let one strengthen the hands of the City missionary, another of the humble "Bible woman," or of the district visitor, or of any who labour to do good to the bodies or souls of men. Let those who can do it (and let none say they cannot, till they have tried), go forth personally into the streets and corners, and with their own hand distribute the results of their work or of their self-denial. These kind ladies in our illustration understand the luxury of doing good. They are true sisters of charity, though not dressed in the formal garb of those who commonly go by that name. They have renounced no domestic duties nor relationships; but while they brighten their own homes, they can also gladden the homes of the poor. They are the daughters of that good wife and mother whose praises are recorded in the thirty-first chapter of Proverbs, "She stretcheth out her hand to the poor; yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy." They are doing work for God. And as they distribute their New Year's gifts, they not only wish but make it a happy new year-happy both to givers and receivers, for "it is more blessed to give than to receive.”

Only let us take care that all our work, whether in charity or in our daily calling, be "work for God." To this end, it must fairly be done on principle-not from excited feeling, but from a genuine desire that by it we may please God. Let us choose our work and enter on it, as on a path in which He would have us to go. Begin it with prayer. Consecrate it to God by an approach to his throne. bravely to the toil. True, our work will never stand the scrutiny of God. But the work of Christ will stand. By faith we must appropriate his work and having done so, we may rest assured that even the cup of cold water given to a disciple, will in no case lose its reward.

Then go out

A SNOWSTORM IN SURREY.

E had gone down to Abinger the morning after Christmas-day for a little change and fresh air. We all hoped for clear, bright, frosty weather, or a heavy fall of snow, which I assured my children was the most charming and extraordinary event they could changing the whole face of nature so much that all their knowledge of the locality would be required to find their way about the hills

and dales.

see,

Our holiday was almost spent, and yet no frost or snow. Wednesday, the 10th January, the night seemed quieter than usual, when, towards morning, the wind began to sough and moan most sadly, and at last came in fierce and sudden blasts. All at once I heard a crash in the pine-forest behind our cottage, then another: jumping up, I looked out, and saw a heavy mantle of snow over the whole country. It had fallen so silently, and yet so heavily, that all sound was deadened save the wind and these distinct crashes; and now I could distinguish very clearly that the weight of snow and the strong wind were playing sad havoc with our woods, All windows facing the south and west were drifted up in an extraordinary way; but at the back-kitchen door was the most striking sight, for the snow had been blown up against it to the height of our shoulders. Mrs. Mott's poor pig, that she treats almost like a child, was barricaded in her bedroom, and clamoured loudly for his breakfast, but no one could get to him. Deep snow in the garden covered all the gooseberry and currant bushes, only the tops of the heckles and old crocks on the beehives being visible. The farmer's cows in the yard and under the shed looked doleful enough; their byres and racks were filled with snow. But the worst sight of all was our new arbour, which had cost us so much labour, and from

which we elder ones had hoped to watch the game of croquet whilst we remained in the shade of the hollies and junipers. Alas! these

were all lying prostrate, many of their tops being broken off, while the branches were matted down with heavy snow. Still, the wild aspect of the hills around was a grand sight, and, putting aside for a time our immediate griefs, we breakfasted and prepared to go out and look after our favourite trees in the woods.

All the way up the woodland road to Parkhurst was encumbered with the trunks and branches of firs; for the Scotch fir is the tree of our common, and unfortunately this suffered the most, its foliage holding the snow in heavy masses. Some of them were lying fairly uprooted, having torn up large blocks of sandstone and quantities of earth in their fall, and brought destruction on all their neighbours. The tops of vast numbers were torn or broken short off, some here and there having the whole of their branches smashed, and piled on the ground round the naked and

melancholy-looking trunks.

But the rising sun, as it climbed above the

tree-tops, cast delicate shadows on the snow, gilded all with lovely radiance, and made us forget the wreck and damage in the beauty of the scene.

The wind lulled, no longer shaking the clots on our heads, and we made our way over Leith Hill to Etherley, to see whether the southern