The early morning sky was a pool of ink and the air was freezing, at least by a Southerner’s standards over Nigeria. Still, on Tuesday, Cornelius Ani got out of bed, bundled up and drove 30 miles in from the Atlanta suburbs. He had to.

This was his chance – his only chance – to be in the presence of someone like Jimmy Carter. A President of the United States. A Nobel Peace Prize winner. A Georgian. A man with humble roots whom he deeply admired. Mr. Ani, 62, assumed he would never meet anyone like that again in his life.

“This combination can only come from someone who has been chosen,” said Mr. Ani, beaming — suddenly immune to the cold — as he left Mr. Carter’s casket after arriving at the Carter Presidential Library in Atlanta hours before sunrise.

“Give it your all, give it your all, give it your all,” said Mr. Ani, a civil engineer. That was the lesson he learned from Jimmy Carter.

Since Saturday evening, the library was open 24 hours a day, so anyone who wanted could approach the coffin covered with the American flag – to say a prayer, give a greeting, watch the changing of the guard, cry, etc. Just stand there and enjoy immersing yourself in a moment that feels like a piece of history.

Soon afterward, Mr. Carter’s remains would be returned to Washington, the next leg of a journey spanning the former president’s long and varied life. He would be leaving Atlanta for the last time. There was no big last minute rush before the viewing ended at 6am. In those final hours, the security officers and volunteer crew sometimes outnumbered the visitors.

Some arrived in scrubs and fluorescent vests. John Roberts, 58, wore a shirt, tie and gray sweater. “I feel like it was justified,” he said. He came from Marietta, in the Atlanta suburbs, parked somewhere, hoping not to get a ticket, and went in to say a quick prayer.

“I pray I live to be 100,” he said. “I pray that I live a life like him.”

Kim Jensen, deputy director of the Carter Center’s program to combat trachoma, an eye disease that is a leading cause of blindness worldwide, previously attended a special service for the center’s staff. Still, she wanted to come back and left her house around 4 a.m

“I was worried he would be alone,” she said.

However modest Mr. Carter may have presented himself, he belonged to that rarest category of people known and respected around the world: the group of presidents, popes and monarchs.

It seemed that death did not weaken the power of being in his presence. It was entirely possible that the opposite was true.

“I just wanted to be part of history,” said Amber Seabrook Stokes, a chiropractor who woke up around 2:30 a.m. and came from Powder Springs, Georgia, about 20 miles away. “My husband looked at me like I was crazy.”

On the bus ride to the library, she struck up a conversation with Lailaa Ragins, a housewife from Marietta, and they emerged from the visit together. They were united by their affection for Mr. Carter and the realization that they didn’t live too far apart.

Ms. Ragins wanted to come before her children woke up. She felt connected to Mr. Carter because of their shared Christian faith, she said, and because of Habitat for Humanity, the nonprofit organization that has long been associated with Mr. Carter. When she was a child, her family moved into a Habitat home. She recalled that every Saturday her mother would complete her “sweat hours,” the in-kind down payment required to purchase one of the nonprofit’s homes.

She left with joy.

“This life is not all there is,” said Ms. Ragins, 39. “His soul is with God. He is with his wife. His soul is free.”

Mel Selcho, 53, crouched outside a heater and welcomed people. “There aren’t many men I would stand in the cold for,” Ms. Selcho joked. She could have been one of the volunteers inside. But being “a professional shusher,” as she called it, wasn’t for her. This role suited her better.

“Here to see President Carter?” she asked the people coming up.

“President Carter is waiting for you!”

As a girl in Utah, where Mr. Carter was not so popular, she was among the few students at her elementary school who voted for him in a mock election. “He always had a special place in my heart,” she said.

When she got the chance to do the honors, she became emotional. “I was very surprised that I had tears in my eyes,” she said.

Others had the same unexpected reaction. The watery eyes that morning weren’t just due to the stormy wind.

“I was there for five to 10 minutes and tears were literally streaming down my face,” said LaSonya Burton, another night shift volunteer who came from Douglas County, about 25 miles west of Atlanta.

She had never been to the Carter Center before and was now instructing visitors to sign the guest books.

Folders were stuffed with messages in various languages ​​and more than a few depictions of peanuts, including one with a toothy grin and angel wings. A family from Ellenwood, Georgia sat down and filled out the pages. (A quick excerpt: “Showing gentleness is not weakness,” one of them wrote.) Most people just wrote down a few words.

The world will miss you, just like Atlanta.

Thank you for your tireless commitment to a cleaner, safer, better and fairer world. I will deliver your message. I’m sorry we let you down.

My aunt Kathryn met you in her 80s in North Carolina and was a giddy schoolgirl.

You rule Jimmy

The tour ended at 5 a.m. The crowd increased slightly. “One more hour!” cried Mrs. Selcho.

Joshua Newsome, 24, and Antonio Hatch, 25, rode past on their bikes in their black, fluffy winter jackets. “It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” said Mr. Hatch, “and a bit of an adventure with the cold, so we got up stupidly early.”

The experience was powerful. “It’s a moment of honor and respect,” Mr. Newsome said. But he also acknowledged that the gravity of this moment and the consequences he would ultimately draw from it had not yet occurred. “I think I need to wake up a bit,” he said before cycling home in the dark.

Audio produced by Sarah Diamond.