The early morning sky resembled a vast pool of ink, and the air was biting cold—at least by the standards of a Southerner originally from Nigeria. Yet, Cornelius Ani, 62, pulled himself out of bed on a Tuesday, bundled up, and drove 30 miles from his suburban home near Atlanta. He had no choice.

It Was Dark, Freezing and 4 a.m. Still, They Came to See Jimmy Carter.

This was his chance—his only opportunity—to be in the presence of someone like Jimmy Carter. A former U.S. president. A Nobel Peace Prize laureate. A Georgian. A man with humble beginnings whom Mr. Ani deeply admired. He knew that in his lifetime, he might never meet someone like Carter again.https://wordpress.com/

“Such a combination can only come from someone chosen by fate,” said Mr. Ani, smiling as he stepped away from Carter’s coffin after arriving at the Carter Presidential Library in Atlanta hours before sunrise.

“Give it all, give it all, give it all,” the civil engineer added. That was the lesson he took away from Jimmy Carter.

Since Saturday evening, the library had remained open around the clock, allowing anyone who wished to approach the flag-draped coffin—to say a prayer, offer a salute, witness the changing of the guard, shed tears, or simply be present in a moment that felt deeply historical.

Soon, Mr. Carter’s remains would be transported to Washington, marking the next chapter in the journey of a life that spanned many remarkable accomplishments. For now, however, it was Atlanta’s turn to honor him. The final hours of the visitation saw fewer visitors, with volunteers and security officers sometimes outnumbering those who came to pay their respects.

Some visitors arrived dressed casually, in scrubs or fluorescent vests. Others, like John Roberts, 58, opted for a dress shirt, tie, and sweater. “It just felt appropriate,” he said, having come from Marietta, a suburb of Atlanta, to offer a brief prayer.

“I pray I live to be 100,” he added. “And I hope I live a life like his.”

Kim Jensen, associate director of the Carter Center’s trachoma control program, had already attended a special service for employees. But she couldn’t help returning for another visit, walking from her home at 4 a.m. “I worried he might be alone,” she confessed.

Despite his modest persona, Jimmy Carter had achieved the rare status of being a global figure, revered like presidents, popes, or monarchs.

In death, it seemed, the power of his presence only grew stronger.

Amber Seabrook Stokes, a chiropractor who had risen at 2:30 a.m. and driven 20 miles from Powder Springs, Georgia, to the library, said, “I just wanted to be part of history.” Her husband had given her a puzzled look when she mentioned her plans.

On the bus ride to the library, she struck up a conversation with Lailaa Ragins, a stay-at-home mother from Marietta. They discovered they lived near each other and shared a deep admiration for Mr. Carter, largely due to their shared Christian faith and his association with Habitat for Humanity. Ragins recalled how her family had moved into a Habitat house when she was a child and how her mother had volunteered every Saturday as part of the nonprofit’s program.

Ragins left feeling uplifted. “This life isn’t all there is,” she reflected. “His soul is with God, and he’s with his wife. His soul is free.”

Mel Selcho, 53, stood by a heater outside, greeting visitors with warmth. “There aren’t many men I’d stand in the cold for,” she joked. Though she could have volunteered inside, she preferred her current role.

“Here to see President Carter?” she asked people as they arrived.

“President Carter is waiting for you!” she cheered.

Selcho had fond memories of voting for Carter in a mock election in her Utah elementary school, despite Carter’s unpopularity in the area. “He’s always had a special place in my heart,” she said. When it was her turn to pay respects, she was unexpectedly moved to tears.

LaSonya Burton, another volunteer from Douglas County, also had a powerful, emotional response. “I was there for just five to 10 minutes, and tears were literally falling down my face,” she said, wiping her eyes.

Guests had been invited to sign guest books, which were now filled with heartfelt messages in multiple languages, including playful drawings of peanuts. One excerpt read: “Exhibiting meekness is not weakness.” Many visitors simply penned brief tributes: “The world will miss you & so will Atlanta,” or “Thank you for tirelessly working for a better, fairer world. I will carry your message.”

By 5 a.m., the visitation was nearing its end, and a few more visitors arrived in the last hour. “One more hour!” Selcho called out to the dwindling crowd.

Joshua Newsome, 24, and Antonio Hatch, 25, rode their bikes to the library in their thick winter coats. “It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” Hatch said. “And a bit of an adventure with the cold. We woke up ridiculously early.”

The experience felt significant. “It’s a moment of honor and respect,” Newsome added. But as they left in the early morning dark, he admitted, “I think I need some time to fully process what I just experienced.”