Of That Eternal Language

How Coleridge's "Frost at Midnight" teaches us to find God in all things.

But thou, my babe! shalt wander like a breeze
By lakes and sandy shores, beneath the crags
Of ancient mountain, and beneath the clouds,
Which image in their bulk both lakes and shores
And mountain crags: so shalt thou see and hear
The lovely shapes and sounds intelligible
Of that eternal language, which thy God
Utters, who from eternity doth teach
Himself in all, and all things in himself.
Great universal Teacher! he shall mould
Thy spirit, and by giving make it ask.

Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch
Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eave-drops fall
Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Or if the secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet Moon.

Poetry has a way of communicating truth in a fundamentally unique and deep way. I experienced the special power of the poetic after reading Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s Frost at Midnight. This rich verse finds Coleridge reflecting on nature, his life, and the future life of his newborn son.

The final two stanzas (seen above) in particular have arrested most of my thoughts and attention. After Coleridge spends time reflecting on the nature of his own life as a child, the volta shifts his focus to reflections on the future life of his son. Unlike his own distracted life in the city, his son’s life, he promises, will be one of wanderings.

By lakes and sandy shores, beneath the crags
Of ancient mountain, and beneath the clouds
Which image in their bulk both lakes and shores

He envisions the good life as one which lives and moves and has its being directly in the natural world.

Why is this a picture of the good life? The fundamental reason is given next,

So shalt thou see and hear
The lovely shapes and sounds intelligible
Of that eternal language, which thy God
Utters, who from eternity doth teach
Himself in all, and all things in himself.

Here is a bountiful picture of our world, one in which God is bursting forth in speech and instruction in all things. See, if we want to view the cosmos in the way Coleridge does, we have to first come to terms with the truth that all things are revelation from God, and if revelation, then by definition divine speech. Our doctrine of creation must be one that joins in with affirmation of the biblical refrain, “it was good.” Only then can we recognize that all things coming from God participate in God by way of their good and perfect Source. God’s eternal language is all around us. The implications of this are profound. We need not wonder if God will ever speak to us, because he does so profusely. We only need eyes to read and ears to hear. It should come to bear on us that we are thinking in a man-centric way by limiting God’s speech to our normal auditory means—like vocal cords producing vibrations in the air. David Bentley Hart says it like this,

In one sense, then, God’s “silence” is only another name for the sheer infinity of the divine eloquence. For it would be a kind of idolatry to imagine that, amid the prodigious polyphony of creation, divine speech should as a rule be discernible as just one small, singular, finite locution among others. Everything all at once is God’s voice.¹

For Coleridge, a natural sequitur from the ubiquity and pervasiveness of that eternal, divine speech is that God is also teaching “Himself in all, and all things in himself.” This speech isn’t inert, or incapable of bringing life to those who witness it. No, in fact, God is using it to instruct and change us. Our hearts can be pierced to the core with an overwhelming experience of beautiful landscapes. Our minds can be overwhelmed by the pure power of the brooding thunderstorm. Our souls can be struck by the ineffability found in the way a beautiful piece of art calls us to become a better person. If we are willing, all of these moments are opportunities to learn about and commune with our Creator. If we are willing to make the ascent, to climb the mountain along the path of the True, the Beautiful, and the Good, we will be rewarded with a glimpse of the Mountaintop.

What major effect will this have on our lives? Coleridge answers:

Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee

He imagines that if his newborn son grows up to see the world this way, then all seasons will be sweet for him! It is clear he has in view here the actual ecological seasons.

Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch
Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eave-drops fall
Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Or if the secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet Moon.

Yet, it is not hard to see a deeper meaning in his words. Yes, through this vision, we can find beauty in winter’s snow, but also in the bitter, cold winters of personal sorrow. If we truly believe that God’s eternal language is woven into all things, then we have all we need to find and taste of his sweetness in every season of life. I think growing in this way of living is a sign of spiritual maturation. See, we are like Coleridge’s son, a newborn that starts life without the awareness of the reality that surrounds him. But as we begin to discover that all of life is the eternal language of the Divine, we then take our first step toward reading and contemplating God in all things. And by so doing, we, like the frost reflecting light back to the Moon, reflect the divine light back to that one beautiful, illuminating, eternal Source. God designed us as a unique kind of mirror—not only do we reflect, but we also absorb. As we continually take in that heavenly light, we are transformed. One day, when we enter into that eternal doxology we will be forever changed, as we fully know and are fully known by the great Speaker of that eternal language.

1. David Bentley Hart, “You Are Gods,” 52.