NEW YORK, NY.- It can be hard to understand people when they sing. Melodies are often complex; accompaniments are dense; vocalists favor the musical line over crisp diction. Millions, after all, have thought the Beatles wrote the lyric “The girl with colitis goes by.”

Proponents of performing opera in English translation — in English-speaking countries, of course — say that intelligibility is their goal. But the results are often no clearer to the audience than German or Italian would have been.

So it was no small feat that the text in “Voices of the Immaculate” — a simmering new cantata by Kati Agocs, given a resolute premiere performance by Lucy Dhegrae at the Miller Theater at Columbia University on Thursday — was entirely, word for word, lucid. What a relief not to be reaching for the program every other sentence to find out what was being sung.

Indeed, “Voices,” scored for singer and quintet, was conceived, as Agocs said in an onstage discussion, with transparency as a first principle. Her text — an alternation of fragments from the Book of Revelation with lines from the testimony of survivors of sexual abuse by the clergy — demands to be heard, and is. In Dhegrae’s calm, purposeful delivery, there was no escaping what she and Agocs were saying in this seven-section, 30-minute piece.

Not that their story isn’t ambiguous. Revelation is quoted here not, as usual, for its apocalyptic fervor, but in a mood of utopian sweetness. Is this meant to be an ironic counterpoint to the accounts of the abused? If so, the irony is held very close to the vest, with music that feels quietly, unremittingly sincere.

Moving solemnly around the stage, Dhegrae, while not embodying a character per se, presented a beautifully underplayed childlike persona. A passage of scat turned into something eerily like baby talk, and a section of testimony with the refrain “I believe God should have been there with me” was delivered with plain, luminous simplicity.

It isn’t Sprechstimme, but the vocal line has the naturalness of speech; direct without being tuneful, it recalled at moments the mid-20th-century American art song style of a Samuel Barber. This heavy material could have been milked for mawkish portentousness; Agocs and Dhegrae realized that restraint would be more powerful.

In the accompaniment, from the quintet Third Sound (Sooyun Kim, flute; Romie de Guise-Langlois, clarinet; Karen Kim, violin; Michael Nicolas, cello; Mika Sasaki, piano), slight jittery motifs yielded to arid expanses. In one section, Sasaki switched to celesta, for a chilling melding of ominousness and guilelessness.

All isn’t near-silence. A moment of aggressive winds illustrates the fires of Revelation, and the piece is filled out with spacious — if still understated — postludes after the vocal sections. But Agocs usually paints with a light brush: a faint drone in the strings, say, with a dark rumble in the piano underneath.

This was the resumption of the Miller’s signature Composer Portraits series, and Third Sound opened the concert with Agocs’s intimate “Immutable Dreams,” from 2007. Its first movement is a gradually intensifying assemblage of feathery, glassy wisps; the second, dominated by a piano solo that harkens to Romantic heft; the third, an earnest elegy with tangy harmonies and an effusive cello line.

Thursday also marked the return of in-person performances at the Miller. (Composer Portraits devoted to Luca Francesconi, Felipe Lara, Matana Roberts and Thomas Meadowcroft fill out the season.) To be back in a space that presents new music so warmly and, in the best sense, casually was a gift.

This article originally appeared in The New York Times.