Christoph Eschenbach and the Philadelphia Orchestra have been cycling through the Mahler symphonies, though not in order. In November, they performed the Fourth at Carnegie Hall. Two nights ago, they returned to that same hall to perform the Second. A mightier, more uplifting symphony is hard to come by, and Mr. Eschenbach and his forces did pretty well by it.

Carnegie Hall’s stage was groaning with the aforementioned forces: the maxed-out orchestra; the Philadelphia Singers Chorale; and two soloists — the Swiss mezzo-soprano Yvonne Naef and the Slovakian soprano Simona Šaturovà.

Mahler’s Second Symphony, known as “the Resurrection,” has five movements, and Maestro Eschenbach tucked into the first with great intensity. I have often spoken of his “coiled” quality, and this quality was in evidence. The strings played with wonderful markedness and bite. Indeed, the orchestra was as impressive in this first part of the first movement as they were all evening.

As the music continued, Mr. Eschenbach showed considerable authority and inspiration — reminiscent of his best conducting. The orchestra was for the most part together, although there were moments when the wagon threatened to tip. Mahler calls on many instruments for solos, and some of these solos were better than others. Truly outstanding was the principal horn.

In fact, the Philadelphia horn section as a whole played superbly all through the symphony. Where did they think they were, in the Berlin Philharmonic?

Mr. Eschenbach did some odd things in the first movement, distorting the Mahlerian line or flow. For example, some of the conductor’s ritards were positively Maazelian: sudden, uncalled for, and extreme. Also, some slow sections were slightly dragging, although you might have defended them as “thoughtful.”

The second movement — Andante moderato — started somewhat alarmingly: It was heavy, plodding, and slow, lacking its customary spring and grace. Later, Mr. Eschenbach infused the music with some heart-on-the-sleeve drama — excellent. But he also did some more distorting, or warping, doing Mahler no favors. Freedom is one thing, license another (if you will forgive the obvious).

Incidentally, the Philadelphians ended this second movement with a wretched pizzicato. But they had ended the first movement with near-perfect pizzicatos, and one should not be too greedy.

Mahler’s third movement was splendidly realized. Mr. Eschenbach brought out its spooky panache, the swirling, darkish, exotic elements of the music. And where Mahler requires a certain roughness, that Mr. Eschenbach gave.

In the fourth movement came Yvonne Naef’s turn: She sang the “Urlicht,” and did so touchingly. You might have asked for a bit more richness or regality from her. Also, standing with the chorus in the back, she was somewhat muted. But she did this special task — singing the “Urlicht” — well. And Mr. Eschenbach conducted with ennobling resoluteness.

What we call the fifth movement is not so much a movement as a string of sections, all of them immortal, like the symphony as a whole. Mr. Eschenbach managed these sections wisely, or at least defensibly. He was ferocious or tranquil, suspenseful or affirmative, slashing or angelic, as necessary. Largely absent were the eccentricities that had marred earlier movements.

I might mention an orchestral specific: The crescendos on the bass drum were probably the best-planned, most terrifying, and most thrilling I have heard.

The soprano soloist, Ms. Šaturovà, was pure, sincere, and honest. She was somewhat underpowered at times, but that was forgivable. And Ms. Naef sang “O glaube, mein Herz” even better than she had the “Urlicht.” As for the chorus, it was first-rate, whether hushed or full-throated. In at least one section, Mr. Eschenbach had them on tenterhooks, and he had us that way, too.

As you might expect in a work lasting an hour and a half, the conductor did some things you could cheer, and some things you could boo (or at least frown at). All told, this was not my kind of Mahler Second. But Mr. Eschenbach had a case to make, and he is no dummy, in Mahler or in other music. I would not want a recording of this account on a desert island; but I’m glad I heard it.

Mr. Eschenbach is scheduled to leave Philadelphia at the end of next season, after a relatively brief and troubled tenure. One thought I had on Tuesday night was: In hiring a successor, the orchestra had better take care not to do worse.

By the way, the “Resurrection” Symphony features one of the greatest climaxes in all of music — when the chorus goes up for, “ja, aufersteh’n” (“yes, rise again”). I did not like the way Mr. Eschenbach handled this — using miles of rubato, again warping the music. Still, somehow, my face was wet.