In his short life, Schubert wrote more than 600 songs, and two immortal song-cycles: “Die schöne Müllerin” (“The Fair Miller-Maid”) and “Winterreise” (“Winter Journey”). The latter cycle was performed late Sunday afternoon at the Rose Theater. The singer was Christine Schäfer, the German soprano; and the pianist was Eric Schneider, a German pianist.

As a rule, anybody of any voice type can sing any Schubert song — but there are exceptions, of course. There are also patterns. You may think of the ideal singer of “Die schöne Müllerin” as a lyric tenor — if only because Fritz Wunderlich put such a stamp on it. And you may think of “Winterreise” as the province of baritones and bass-baritones: We all have Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau in our ear (or possibly Hans Hotter).

Women have sung both cycles, to be sure, but seldom. Christa Ludwig, a mezzo, recorded “Winterreise”; so did Brigitte Fassbaender, another mezzo. To hear it from a soprano, like Ms. Schäfer? Very, very rare. And Ms. Schäfer is not just a soprano — she is a light lyric soprano.

She is also one of the most intelligent and versatile singers now before the public. She can sing Baroque music, Mozart, French songs, George Crumb — you name it. And she gave an overpowering performance of “Winterreise” two days ago.

It was a bit shocking when Ms. Schäfer and Mr. Schneider started out the cycle. “Gute Nacht” came at us in D minor, instead of the customary C minor. And then there was that sound — the sound of a light lyric soprano. Piping. The ear took some moments to adjust.

In “Gute Nacht,” Ms. Schäfer sang some uncertain notes, as she would in other songs; but all such notes were trifling. She used some portamento, which we don’t often hear in this music — but she used it to good and tasteful effect.

As for Mr. Schneider, he played “Gute Nacht” solidly, sensitively, and incisively. He, and she, employed just enough rubato to keep things interesting — the pulse was never spoiled. Mainly, Mr. Schneider was straightforward, letting the music speak for itself. Take the shift of key into the major (tonic major): You don’t have to announce it; it is simply there.

On they went, through the 23 other songs. They proved, certainly, that they were unafraid of this music — not overly in awe of it. It’s hard to sing or play music that you regard as holy. Some people tiptoe around, instead of really singing and playing. Not these two. And this heightened the emotional impact.

Ms. Schäfer demonstrated clear diction, and that included no overemphasis. In the past, I’ve described her singing of lieder as “almost objective.” In “Winterreise,” she was “subjective” — but always Schubertian. Now and then, she let her voice be “operatic,” up top. But, frankly, we may make too much of “opera singing” versus “song singing.” Both are vocal expression.

I have spoken of a full, rhapsodic sound. Ms. Schäfer also let her voice get wispy — and when she did so, she did not cause that voice to lose body. Unless, that is, she wanted to.

Tempos tended to be fast, but not rushed: The two performers simply did not linger unnecessarily. They knew they had a story to tell, and that story was told naturally, even inexorably. That is a rare achievement.

In the course of the cycle, Mr. Schneider showed himself to be a genuine Schubert pianist — someone it would be satisfying to hear in sonatas or impromptus. His affinity for the composer is obvious.

And we happen to be living in a fine age for accompanists, or “collaborative pianists.” From Germany alone, we have Wolfram Rieger, Justus Zeyen, Gerold Huber, and Mr. Schneider — just to name four. It seems that everybody and his brother studied at the feet of Mr. Fischer-Dieskau and the late Elisabeth Schwarzkopf. Those are good feet to study at.

A few details from Sunday’s “Winterreise”: “Rückblick” had uncommon intensity, from singer and pianist alike. “Einsamkeit” means “Loneliness,” and Mr. Schneider’s introduction of this song sounded much like that. “Die Post” had a wonderful, galloping giddiness. In “Die Krähe,” there was a dismaying (and right) helplessness. “Das Wirtshaus” sounded like a hymn — though it is certainly not one.

The final songs were devastating, as they should be — almost unbearable to listen to. Ms. Schäfer’s purity in “Die Nebensonnen” made that song all the more shattering. I couldn’t wait to bolt out of the hall — and that is a high compliment, believe me.

A key question to ask about any performance of a Schubert song-cycle is, “Did the performers weave a spell? Were time and space suspended?” The answer in this case is yes. And one found oneself thinking that the cycle was really meant for a light lyric soprano! Consider the person in the audience who was hearing “Winterreise” for the first time, and there surely were some: To them, that’s the way the piece sounds.

I am of the school that maintains, “(Almost) everyone should sing (almost) everything.” I wish Jussi Bjoerling had recorded the Liebestod. And Christine Schäfer more than proved she has a right to sing “Winterreise.” She and Mr. Schneider have recorded it, incidentally, for Onyx Classics.

They have a thorough understanding of the work, and they have the technical means of expressing that understanding. That’s pretty much the whole ballgame, isn’t it?