It _is_ possible to love our neighbour as ourselves. Our Lord _never_ spoke hyperbolically, although, indeed, that is the supposition on which many unconsciously interpret his words, in order to be able to persuade themselves that they believe them. We may see that it is possible before we attain to it; for our perceptions of truth are always in advance of our condition. True, no man can see it perfectly until he is it; but we must see it, that we may be it. A man who knows that he does not yet love his neighbour as himself may believe in such a condition, may even see that there is no other goal of human perfection, nothing else to which the universe is speeding, propelled by the Father's will. Let him labour on, and not faint at the thought that God's day is a thousand years: his millennium is likewise one day--yea, this day, for we have him, The Love, in us, working even now the far end. But while it is true that only when a man loves God with all his heart, will he love his neighbour as himself, yet there are mingled processes in the attainment of this final result. Let us try to aid such operation of truth by looking farther. Let us suppose that the man who believes our Lord both meant what he said, and knew the truth of the matter, proceeds to endeavour obedience in this of loving his neighbour as himself. He begins to think about his neighbours generally, and he tries to feel love towards them. He finds at once that they begin to classify themselves. With some he feels no difficulty, for he loves them already, not indeed because they _are_, but because they have, by friendly qualities, by showing themselves lovable, that is loving, already, moved his feelings as the wind moves the waters, that is without any self-generated action on his part. And he feels that this is nothing much to the point; though, of course, he would be farther from the desired end if he had none such to love, and farther still if he loved none such. He recalls the words of our Lord, "If ye love them which love you, what reward have ye?" and his mind fixes upon--let us say--one of a second class, and he tries to love him. The man is no enemy--we have not come to that class of neighbours yet--but he is dull, uninteresting--in a negative way, he thinks, unlovable. What is he to do with him? With all his effort, he finds the goal as far off as ever. Naturally, in his failure, the question arises, "Is it my duty to love him who is unlovable?" Certainly not, if he is unlovable. But that is a begging of the question. Thereupon the man falls back on the primary foundation of things, and asks-- "How, then, is the man to be loved by me? Why should I love my neighbour as myself?"