less, or to something greater?--to something that is less we, which
means degradation? to something that is not we, which means
annihilation? or to something that is more we, which means a farther
development of the original idea of us, the divine germ of us, holding
in it all we ever were, all we ever can and must become? What is it
constitutes this or that man? Is it what he himself thinks he is?
Assuredly not. Is it what his friends at any given moment think him? Far
from it. In which of his changing moods is he more himself? Loves any
lover so little as to desire _no_ change in the person loved--no
something different to bring him or her closer to the indwelling ideal?
In the loveliest is there not something not like her--something less
lovely than she--some little thing in which a change would make her, not
less, but more herself? Is it not of the very essence of the Christian
hope, that we shall be changed from much bad to all good? If a wife so
love that she would keep every opposition, every inconsistency in her
husband's as yet but partially harmonious character, she does not love
well enough for the kingdom of heaven. If its imperfections be essential
to the individuality she loves, and to the repossession of her joy in
it, she may be sure that, if he were restored to her as she would have
him, she would soon come to love him less--perhaps to love him not at
all; for no one who does not love perfection, will ever keep constant in
loving. Fault is not lovable; it is only the good in which the alien
fault dwells that causes it to seem capable of being loved. Neither is
it any man's peculiarities that make him beloved; it is the essential
humanity underlying those peculiarities. They may make him interesting,
and, where not offensive, they may come to be loved for the sake of the
man; but in themselves they are of smallest account.

We must not however confound peculiarity with diversity. Diversity is in
and from God; peculiarity in and from man. The real man is the divine