On Monday night at Weill Recital Hall – the lovely space upstairs at Carnegie – Sarah Connolly gave us one of the most satisfying events of the season. The English mezzo-soprano sang a diverse recital, offering Haydn, Brahms, Hahn, Korngold, and Weill (Weill at Weill!). This followed her debut at the Metropolitan Opera, as Annio in Mozart’s “Clemenza di Tito.” All in all, Ms. Connolly put in a very good month’s work in New York.

She is an intelligent singer, with a fine technique, and a first-class voice: It has an enviable weight to it, being substantial – even dramatic – but truly lyrical. In the course of her recital, she showed herself pretty much all-capable. She is not a certain type of singer: Like all the best, she is simply a singer.

The Haydn was his concert aria “Berenice, che fai,” no easy thing to bring off. Ms. Connolly was clean – Haydn-clean – with sure onsets, unsagging pitch, and neat trills. The vocal range proved impressive, as Ms. Connolly sang a marvelous low A flat, and some thrilling top notes. She just missed a quick high C, but she was close enough, for a mezzo. Above all, she shaped Haydn’s piece – potentially awkward – convincingly.

Accompanying her at the piano was Eugene Asti, who was equal to his singer. These Classical arrangements for piano – Haydn, Mozart – are thankless, hard to make sound right. Mr. Asti played with character, taste, and dexterity. He would hardly put a foot wrong, all evening long.

Brahms loved the low voice, much as Strauss loved the soprano voice – and most of the great mezzos and contraltos have loved to wrap themselves around Brahms’s songs. One thinks of Marian Anderson, Christa Ludwig, Marilyn Horne, and Ms. Connolly’s great countryman, Janet Baker.

Ms. Connolly sang seven songs – seven of the best – beginning with “Standchen,” not really a low-voice song, actually: Nonetheless, Ms. Connolly sang it deliciously. One of the best things about the next song, “Da unten im Tale,” is that it wasn’t too slow – a minor miracle. “Nachtwandler” is a strange, wondrous thing, on which Ms. Connolly lavished her rich lower register. And her success in “Feldeinsamkeit” can be explained only as a matter of superb musical judgment.

The last of the songs, “Von ewiger Liebe,” was not so successful. It started too big, and did not build as it might have. Also, the tempo could have been steadier, giving a greater sense of inevitability, irresistible momentum.

A similar problem was apparent in the first of the Reynaldo Hahn songs, which began the second half of the program. This was “A Chloris,” Hahn’s neo-Baroque beauty, beloved of many singers, including the mezzo Susan Graham, who uses it often. The song needs a very steady pulse, and no affectation whatsoever – the more straightforward, the better. From Ms. Connolly, however, it was slightly mannered, and Mr. Asti’s playing was too heavy. Oh, well.

The rest of the Hahn set was exquisite, including – speaking of exquisiteness – the cherished song “L’Heure exquise.” It traveled on a zephyr. Nothing was added to it; nothing was taken from it. It just was.

From Erich Wolfgang Korngold, Ms. Connolly and Mr. Asti performed four songs, with understanding and panache. It is simply a joy to be in the company of musicians who know what they’re doing. And to conclude, they did four Kurt Weill songs, two from “Lost in the Stars,” and two from “One Touch of Venus.” Triumphant, again, was Ms. Connolly’s judgment, for she did not oversing them, nor ham them up – they were a hundred times more effective that way. The song “Trouble Man” had real power, vocal and theatrical. And lots of singers like to talk their way through “I’m a Stranger Here Myself.” But Ms. Connolly actually sang it. Remarkable.

At encore time, would she give us something British? Yes. She sang John Ireland’s “Her Song,” one of the best items in the British repertory, and something that Janet Baker recorded consummately. Ms. Connolly? Well, let me speak personally: I was deprived of the chance to hear Dame Janet in the flesh; Sarah Connolly almost made up for it. She was so direct, so sincere, so beautiful – you could have wept.

Then she sang a quick, youthful Benjamin Britten song, and was gone. In the field of musical performance, there is really nothing more satisfying than a satisfying vocal recital. On Monday night, you left the hall with something like gratitude. With gratitude itself, actually.