Now, we do not believe that Paul could have retired to rest that night with a conscience void of offense if he had not withdrawn his words. There must be confession when we do or say what is wrong; and if there be not the confession, our communion will assuredly be interrupted. Communion, with unconfessed sin upon the conscience, is a moral impossibility. We may talk of it, but it is all the merest delusion. We must keep a clean conscience if we would walk with God. There is nothing more to be dreaded than moral insensibility, a slovenly conscience, an obtuse moral sense that can allow all sorts of things to pass unjudged—that can commit sin, pass on, and coolly say, “What evil have I done?” Reader, let us, with holy vigilance, watch against all this; let us seek to cultivate a tender conscience. It will demand from us what it demanded from Paul, namely, “exercise.” But it is blessed exercise, and it will yield most precious fruits. Do not suppose that there is aught that savors of the legal in this exercise; nay, it is most thoroughly Christian; indeed we look upon those noble words of Paul as the very embodiment, in a condensed form, of the whole of a Christian’s practice. “To have _always_ a conscience void of offense toward God and men” comprehends every thing. But, alas! how little do we habitually ponder the claims of God, or the claims of our fellow-man! How little is our conscience up to the mark! Claims of all sorts are neglected, yet we feel it not. There is no brokenness and contrition before the Lord. We commit trespass in a thousand things, yet there is no confession or restitution. Things are allowed to pass that ought to be judged, confessed, and put away. There is sin in our holy things; there is lightness and indifference of spirit in the assembly and at the Lord’s table; we rob God, in various ways; we think our own thoughts, speak our own words, do our own pleasure; and what is all this but robbing God, seeing that we are not our own, but bought with a price? Now, we cannot but think that all this must sadly hinder our spiritual growth. It grieves the Spirit of God, and hinders His gracious ministry of Christ to our souls whereby alone we grow up into Him. We know, from various parts of God’s Word, how much He prizes a tender spirit, a contrite heart.—“To this man will I look, even to him that is of a contrite spirit and trembles at My word.” With such an one God can dwell; but with hardness and insensibility, coldness and indifference, He can have no fellowship. Oh, then, let us exercise ourselves to have always a pure and uncondemning conscience, both as to God and as to our fellow-man.