She must be sealed Thine own, yes, only Thine!
Say, must she burn, condemned to depths of hell?--
Thy Will be done--Who doest all things well!

PAUL.
O wretch, what words are these? Thou dost desire----

POLY.
To snatch thee from a never-ending fire.

PAUL.
Or else?

POLY.
O God, I trust to Thy control,
Who when we think not, canst illume the soul!
The when--the how--is His--here am I dumb,--
I wait--I wait--That blessed hour will come!

PAUL.
Oh, leave illusions! Love me!

POLY.
Thee I love
Far more than self, but less than God above!

PAUL.
For love's dear sake, ah, listen to my prayer!

POLY.