If it’s Christmastime, it’s choir-performance time, which is kind of a shame: We should have more choir performances, all year round. Then again, the literature for Christmas is rich. Then again, the literature outside Christmas is even richer.

On Wednesday night, the Choir of King’s College, Cambridge, came to St. Ignatius Loyola Church, at 84th and Park. They appeared under the auspices of Great Performers at Lincoln Center. Indeed, some of the most rewarding evenings under Great Performers have taken place at St. Ignatius Loyola. Call it Lincoln Center East.

According to its publicity materials, the Choir of King’s College is “the pre-eminent representative of the great British church music tradition.” It’s not bragging if it’s true. Led by its music director, Stephen Cleobury, the choir appeared with its usual complement of about 30 persons, divided between young men and boys. Some of these boys were quite small indeed – a few seemed barely out of their nappies.

The first half of the program consisted of two of the best-loved multipart works for this time of year: the “Four Christmas Motets” by Francis Poulenc, and “A Ceremony of Carols” by Benjamin Britten. At the beginning of the Poulenc, the choir did what probably proved its best singing of the night. That first motet had both richness and transparency, which a choir often strives for. Mr. Cleobury let the music properly breathe. And it was not too ethereal, not too wispy; it had the right bite, or substance.

The third motet – “Videntes stellam” – is a little holy thing. The boys did their parts in a quite strained, tight, pinched way; this was classically English, however. The fourth motet – “Hodie Christus natus est” – could have used more gusto, greater joy, more swing. Again, this was English. Furthermore, the choir was a little ragged, and ended flat. Nevertheless, this motet, like the four altogether, was not unenjoyable.

For the Britten, the kids – just the kids – processed with their choirmaster at their head; they were singing accurately. Then, the harp that accompanies “A Ceremony of Carols” began in an appropriately sprightly, Christmasy way. The harpist was Alison Nicholls, a young Englishwoman who studied with New York’s own great harpist, Nancy Allen, at Juilliard. Throughout this work, she proved adept and musical.

In the bright carol “Wolcum Yole!” we heard more straining, more pinching. When it came time for “That yonge child,” a cherubic soloist stepped forth; he looked bravely at the audience, swallowing a little; and he sang touchingly. The fast, complicated “This Little Babe” is difficult to coordinate, and, indeed, our forces had a bit of a train wreck – but no one was badly hurt. As the boys recessed – led out by their master – they once again sang accurately.

The second half of the program began with a little audience participation, as those in attendance joined with the choir – the full choir – for “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.” Then the group sang five new carols, written specially for them. Of particular interest was “The Shepherd’s Carol,” by Bob Chilcott. This is a lovely, frequently swelling work, which occasionally resembles a pop song. Mr. Chilcott is well known as a member of the King’s Singers, and a prolific arranger for that ensemble.

In due course came “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen,” with the audience again participating. Once, in an interview, the composer Ned Rorem was making the point that it wasn’t until relatively recently in musical history that minor – a minor key – meant sad. Asked for an example, he quickly cited “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen.” But with this group, unfortunately, the carol was slow and ponderous – unmerry.

The program concluded with Vaughan Williams’s beloved “Fantasia on Christmas Carols.” There were things to admire here – particularly the beauty of the soloist’s voice – but the performance overall was a little dull, even grim. The English – if I may continue to insult – have a remarkable talent for singing happy music unhappily. In this “great British church music tradition,” that which is joyous can seem funereal. Take the line – in the Vaughan Williams – “News of great joy, news of great mirth, / News of our merciful King’s birth.” Well, let’s hear it.

On the other hand, you could say that this tradition is always pure and sincere – and you would have a fine case.

The choir’s first encore was a carol called “Sleep, Baby, Sleep,” which reminded me that, for some of these tykes, it must have been past bedtime.