Latonia Moore is a young soprano from Houston, and she has had a noteworthy season in New York. Last fall, she sang Micaëla in Bizet’s “Carmen” at City Opera. Some months later, she figured in an Opera Orchestra of New York performance — the work was “L’Arlesiana,” a rarity by Cilea. In both of these operas, Ms. Moore caused a stir.

And she sang a recital on Thursday night upstairs in the Carnegie building: in Weill Recital Hall. The recital was a good one, but it was more than that: It was an amazingly happy experience.

At the outset, there was a table on the stage — what was it doing there? Ah: Ms. Moore was beginning with the Letter Scene from Tchaikovsky’s “Eugene Onegin,” and she would sit right down and write herself a letter. In my view, you should either sing a recital or perform in opera: You’re either in or out. But others disagree, and Ms. Moore did her acting zestily.

And she sang with authority. Initially, she was a bit breathy, possibly nervous. But she soon settled down, pouring forth her big, beautiful voice. She seemed to make no effort to reduce that voice for this little recital hall — which was fine by at least some of us. She’s got it, and she lets it out, unapologetically.

There is a lot going on in that voice, too: It has vibrancy, colors, and assorted other wonders.

After her Letter Scene, Ms. Moore stuck with the Russian repertory, singing a half-dozen Rachmaninoff songs. Some of them require a light, floating quality, and Ms. Moore did not show that. Also, her singing was a little unmodulated, a little unnuanced — everything tended to be big, lush, and pulsing.

But Ms. Moore sang beautifully and movingly, there is no doubt about that. This lady obviously takes delight in singing, and in music. May she never get jaded. She touches her listeners, wins them over, cheers them up. We are in the realm of intangibles.

To close the first half of the recital, Ms. Moore sang “Addio, addio, mio dolce amor,” from Puccini’s “Edgar.” Decades ago, Leontyne Price put this aria on the map with a recording (stunning, of course). And Ms. Moore sang it with due ardor. It was slightly out of control — again, unmodulated — and the singer’s Italian was imperfect. But the aria still scored.

Ms. Moore returned from intermission with another aria: “Amour ranime mon courage,” from Gounod’s “Roméo et Juliette.” You can make an exciting little scene out of it, and Ms. Moore did. Continuing with French, Ms. Moore sang five songs by five different composers (one of them not French: Liszt). But first, she gave a little speech. In a charming, familiar way, she explained that this set had a theme: paths, or pathways.

Everybody’s gotta have a theme these days. Can’t just sing songs because they’re good or interesting — or go together musically.

Ms. Moore could have used more of certain qualities in her French songs: more lightness, more coolness, more subtlety — more Frenchness. Also, she could have used a thinner sound at times. She must de-lush that glorious instrument of hers now and then. But she still made the hall radiate. The final song in the set, “Les chemins qui vont à la mer” by Poulenc, was slightly bluesy and delicious.

Good as this recital had been, the best was yet to come: a set in English, consisting of songs by Katherine K. Davis, James East, and Wintter Watts. In these, Ms. Moore was all directness, sincerity, and lovability. The song by James East was “He’s So Wonderful”: “I’ll trust him to the end. My Jesus, what a friend!” Not everyone could get away with singing this song, but I have a feeling that no one will stop Latonia Moore, ever. Her singing of this song lifted up the heart.

When the program was through, Ms. Moore’s friends, family, and public erupted. This was not so much applause as jubilation. Ms. Moore gave them an encore: “Summertime,” from Gershwin’s “Porgy and Bess” (transposed down a step). She sang this national songs of ours well, even if she broke up the final, long line, oddly.

Then she announced that she had one more encore: “for my daddy.” This was “O mio babbino caro” (“Oh, daddy dearest”) from Puccini’s “Gianni Schicchi.” In it, she was flattish but touching, and when she was done, she looked at her father and said, “I love you, Daddy.” Then she clapped for her accompanist, Richard Raub (as she had throughout the recital).

An amazing singer, and an amazing young lady, Latonia Moore. It was hard to stop smiling after her recital. She had simply made you feel good — and what could be wrong with that?