Selwyn left New Zealand full of hope for its future, confident that the Maori Church would revive and that “The remnant is taking root downwards and bearing fruit upwards.” He exhorted his Synod not to forget that remnant of the faithful Christian Maoris, saying that no increase of European population should make them “forget that it is still a remnant in the great congregation of Christ.” His departure from Auckland was a sort of triumph. All shops were shut, and he and Mrs. Selwyn, who was raised up aloft in a high seat, were dragged by four horses to the pier in a brilliantly coloured triumphal car, amidst the hurrahs of the excited people, the Bishop stretching out his hand for a last shake as he passed through them. The pain of parting did not prevent him from looking on with eagerness to the work which lay before him. At Sydney he wrote to his dear friend, Judge Martin, and told how he had watched for the last time the familiar landmarks of the coast as he passed them, adding: “And then the thought came upon me with great bitterness that I should never see the dear old land again. But the mind has now settled down upon its new bearings, and the magnet of English interests and work begins to draw me on.” Six months after he had left England he was back again, and at the age of 59 he settled down to the great new work that lay before him. With the details of that work we are not here concerned. During the ten years of his work as Bishop of Lichfield, he showed the same unbounded energy and devotion which had characterised his life in New Zealand. The experience gained there was turned to account in all he did and planned. From his clergy he demanded the same energy and devotion to work which he showed himself. He gave much attention to the training of the clergy and to the development of the Theological College which had been established at Lichfield. Sometimes he was considered exacting and hard because he demanded and expected so much of others. He had no patience with slackness and was not one to tolerate excuses. When a student to whom he remarked: “I have not seen you at chapel lately,” answered, “No, my Lord, I have had a bad cold,” he retorted: “I think your cold must have been bad since the beginning of term.” Always exact and punctual in keeping engagements himself, he could not tolerate failure in this respect in others. But the students recognized his anxiety to help each one in the College and knew that he was unsparing of his time in guiding their studies. One of them writes: “We felt as we went forth to our work that we knew our Bishop, and that he knew us.”