Tremors leading up to Jock Soto’s imminent departure have resulted in a spate of works being performed this season, both old and new, that capitalize on his interpretive skills and his unique gift for partnering. Peter Martins’s “Morgen,” and most recently his “Tala Gaisma,” Christopher Wheeldon’s “Polyphonia” and “After the Rain,” and Lynne Taylor-Corbett’s “Chiaroscuro” each cut away at Mr. Soto’s bedrock strength, showing hidden veins of deeply expressive ore.

On Sunday afternoon, after 25 years with the New York City Ballet, he performed for the last time many of his most cherished roles. He made his entrance as Bernardo, leader of the Sharks, in an excerpt from “West Side Story Suite.” With jean-tight shimmies, he moved to the front of the stage. A souvenir from his early days with the company, he raised a shout, inviting his posse to gather around him for the energetic mambo scene.

He followed this slice of demicaractere with a riveting portrayal of the modernist dancer in “Barber Violin Concerto.” He rounded his shoulders forward and cocked his elbows in a fang-like port de bras. The younger Albert Evans has recently assumed this role, but where he makes the exoticism of this gesture appear threatening, Mr. Soto simply allured. In his duet with Darci Kistler, he lifted her head under the magical influence of his hands.

The power he exerted in his partnering became a recurrent motif for the rest of the evening. In Ms. Taylor-Corbett’s “Chiaroscuro,” an acknowledged tribute to Mr. Soto, he rests in the center of six dancers. Each was drawn into his arms as he rotated a torso, supported an arabesque, and caught a leap to the baroque melodies of Francesco Geminiani. Tom Gold rushed at him in spirited turns, finally wrapping around his waist.

Of the female soloists, Miranda Weese was coming off an injury, Pascale van Kipnis was recovering from surgery, and Jennie Somogyi was performing for only the second time this season. Mr. Soto’s purposeful hands had a therapeutic touch, guiding their limbs through a cat’s cradle of combinations. But it was his adagio with Wendy Whelan in “After the Rain” that put a lump in my throat.

The knowledge of finality surrounding this mesmerizing pair added pathos to the already touching score by Arvo Part. Rocking gently as the curtain was raised, they looked giddy with sadness. Together they have awakened in each other’s dancing qualities of intonation that would have otherwise remained dormant. In his choreography for the couple, Mr. Wheeldon made the most of their unique chemistry. In a shared walk, Ms. Whelan’s delicate lyricism became quietly assured; Mr. Soto’s solidity softened as she nudged his feet forward.

The closing excerpt from “Union Jack” brought out almost the entire company in the uniforms of the Royal British navy. Damian Woetzel led the crew with shuffles and grand tours in a salute to Mr. Soto. Appearing as the comic Popeye, Mr. Soto flexed his muscles, and strutted across the stage to smooch an unsuspecting Wren. The work took on a life of its own as Mr. Soto improvised a small number with Mr. Woetzel before going front and center to complete one last bravura solo.

Barely concealing their laughter, the company deliberately botched the semaphore finale. At the sound of muzzle cannons the house jumped to their feet. Mr. Soto was pelted with roses from every angle, and dancers presented him with large bouquets. In a hug, Mr. Martins whispered into Mr. Soto’s ear for several moments. With a look belonging to a 15-year-old boy beaming with the prospect of joining one of the greatest companies on earth, Mr. Soto stepped forward for a final bow as a leading man with a legacy.