Suffering Servant Crucifix

This very unique crucifix depicts our Lord suffering on the cross for our salvation. Both the cross and the corpus have been skillfully carved by hand in the heart of Europe (Slovakia). Skilled woodcarvers use traditional methods to produce these striking pieces of art. On this crucifix, the cross itself is also wonderfully hand-carved. Note for instance, the rope which ties the beams together, having been carved into the wood. Real thorns are placed on the brow of Jesus according to the Scriptures. This crucifix shows our Lord's body bent over as He dies for us - bearing the weight of the whole world's sins.  Available in either a 22" or 26.5" size.  Carved entirely of wood.  Fast shipping from within the United States.    Over Kedron Jesus treadeth To His passion for us all; Every human eye be weeping, Tears of bitter grief let fall! Round His spirit flock the foes, Place their shafts and bend their bows, Aiming at the Saviour solely, While the world forsakes Him wholly.   David once, with heart afflicted, Crossed the Kedron's narrow strand,  Clouds of gloom and grief about him When an exile from his land. But, O Jesus, blacker now Bends the cloud above Thy brow, Hasting to death's dreary portals  For the shame and sin of mortals.   Wilt Thou in Thy pain and ruing To the Mount of Olives go? Yet there is no tree for viewing Where the fruits of peace may grow; War and battle, bitter pain, Death and mockery and shame Every bud shoots forth with sorrow Jesus now no peace can borrow.   Enter now the restful garden As a peaceful quiet space, Sorrow soon begins to darken, Follow Thee in every place! Come now, Adam, come and see Enter blest Gethsemane! See the Lord of heaven shaking Hellish anguish for us taking.   All of Jesus' limbs are quaking As sins' burden hard doth press See the God-Man ever shaking Death doth bring to life distress Jesus' lifeblood forth doth pour And His heart aches more and more Shooting forth with blood-streams narrow From ten thousand poisoned arrows.   See how, anguish-struck, He falleth Prostrate, and with struggling breath, Three times on His God He calleth,  Praying that the bitter death And the cup of doom may go, Still He cries, in all His woe: "Not My will, but Thine, O Father!" And the angels round Him gather.   See how, in that hour of darkness,  Battling with the evil power, Agonies untold assail Him, On His soul the arrows shower; All the garden flowers are wet With the drops of bloody sweat,  From His anguished frame distilling World's redemption thus fulfilling!   O ye heavéns, will ye give Him Strength of heart, and that right soon?  To the end He hard has striven Jesus dies! He dies so soon! Holy angels, come and see Strengthen Him for death to see! How His cheeks are filled with pallor,  As He meets His death with valor.   See the blood so sadly dripping With each drop of sweat so cold; Death in every vein is seeping And His face is dark as coal; And the grass where Jesus prays Now a bloody carpet stays From His precious veins now offering, See what pains He now is suffering!   Daily I am gladly yearning E'er to go to Kedron's stream And from earthly pleasure turning In a penitential theme! Daily in Gethsemane  With my spirit I shall see Jesus' bleeding and His sighing For my soul is all His dying.   Now, away with earthly pleasure! Let me see my Jesus dear! In Gethsemane, my Treasure, I will gather me a tear From His bloody sweat of pain Which my righteousness did gain Earth now gives me only sadness Till I enter heaven's gladness.   But, O flowers, so sadly watered By this pure and precious dew, In some blessed hour your blossoms 'Neath the olive-shadows grew! Eden's garden did not bear Aught that can with you compare, For the blood, thus freely given, Makes my soul the heir of heaven.   When as flowers themselves I wither, When I droop and fade like grass, When the life-streams through my pulses Dull and ever duller pass, When at last they cease to roll, Then, to cheer my sinking soul, Grace of Jesus, be Thou given Source of triumph! pledge of heaven!   And now when my heart is breaking, And my eye no longer sees, When my tongue no sound is making, Let my soul a droplet seize Of Thy precious sweat and blood; Wash my heart in that dear flood.  In the hour when I am dying, On Thy Passion I'm relying