The gable's centre was levelled at some point, and the sculpture placed there in its absence, giving the site an arrangement that feels both devotional and improvised. The church walls, built from roughly coursed limestone rubble with little mortar, now survive in places only two courses high, their surfaces long since consumed by grass and ivy.

By 1840, when surveyors working on the Ordnance Survey Letters passed through, the building was already far gone. They noted that only a fragment of the west gable was standing, and that cut limestone window pieces lay scattered about the graveyard. A later account, published by White in 1892, offered a blunter explanation for why the east gable had fared no better: it had been carried off by herdsmen working for a neighbouring tenant and used to fill gaps in field fences. The church itself measures roughly 18.3 metres east to west and about 9 metres north to south, an undivided rectangular plan of modest scale. A two-metre gap in the south wall marks where a doorway once stood. Scattered among the ruins are further clues to what the building once contained. A limestone corbel, a projecting bracket built into a wall to support a structure above, found in the graveyard suggests the church may once have had an internal gallery. Two chamfered slabs, one embedded in the church floor and one in the graveyard, may be fragments of a seventeenth-century graveslab or possibly remnants of the altar. A headstone inside the church interior carries no legible inscription but appears to date to around 1800. A seventeenth-century house survives 150 metres to the south, within sight of the graveyard's boundary.