So went the introduction to British soprano Emma Kirkby, one of the most beloved, important singers in the early-music world, by the Bach Choir of Bethlehem's music director Greg Funfgeld.

He was preparing listeners for the ultraminiaturist art that Kirkby and lutenist Jakob Lindberg were about to reveal in a program of songs dating back nearly 400 years, with Lindberg playing on an extremely rare, demure-sounding instrument that's as old as the music itself.

More than a few Philadelphians were at this special gala concert presented by the Bach Choir - and one that turned out to be something you want to keep etched in your brain forever.

Kirkby and Lindberg sat at a small table amid the dignified plainness of the Central Moravian Church, the lute's restrained color palette matching the surroundings, with Kirkby singing the unvarnished songs of English composers John Dowland and Henry Purcell with a naturalness that could momentarily convince you she wrote the music herself.

Now 60 (an age that finds many singers retired), Kirkby has pursued an admirably narrow, unwavering path that has rarely strayed beyond music written after Bach. She has avoided opera almost completely, which is why her career has seemed low-profile in recent years. Her concert lacked the customary diva entrances between song sets. During Lindberg's solo moments, she listened by his side.

Though Kirkby's customary range of color was not heard until the second half, the voice was still a pure, relatively un-tremulous instrument that has a way of clearly articulating notes that some singers fluff over. She also taps into the power of smallness, knowing the fallacy of overselling music, that it only becomes quaint when performers try to make it modern.

As simple as the musical-world settings can be in Dowland's early 17th-century songs, their prosody can sound stilted to modern ears. Kirkby has completely worked out what the words say in relation to the music, giving particular depth to Dowland's melancholy in songs such as "Come heavy sleep." Her Purcell selections were more theatrical, including a comic portrayal of madness in "Bess of Bedlam," working even more resourcefully with this composer's more elaborate (and potentially puzzling) word settings.

Often, her eyes did the work of physical gestures as a secondary means of projection. Many singers grow overly refined in later years. Kirkby's art represents supreme distillation, a purging of anything extraneous, ego included.