The site is not ruined in any conventional sense; there is simply nothing to see. No roofless gable, no carved stonework, no obvious outline. Just a field, a slope, and the confluence of two rivers below.

The church was known as Teampall Ghlasín, meaning the church of the little stream, a name recorded by the historian William Carrigan in 1905. Writing in his history of the diocese of Ossory, Carrigan placed it precisely: around 146 metres north of a nearby church, roughly 73 metres from the River Dinin, and built on a raised limestone bed some sixteen to twenty feet above the adjacent floodplain. He noted that the walls, where still highest, projected no more than a foot above ground, though he believed a modest excavation would expose the full foundations. The surrounding ground served as a churchyard, though burials had ceased by around 1770, and by Carrigan's time there were no headstones and no visible signs of graves. What struck him most was the local reputation of the place. People referred to it as "the second church named in Rome," a phrase, he observed, never applied except to the very oldest churches in Ireland. The Irish church maintained close ties with Rome from early medieval times, and such claims, however difficult to verify, were a way of expressing great antiquity and ecclesiastical prestige. On Good Friday, people would gather at the site to pray and perform patterns, the term for the traditional rounds of prayer associated with holy places.

The ridge on which all of this sits offers wide views across the Nore valley, and the landscape itself has a quiet logic to it: a defensible, elevated position between two rivers, the kind of place that would have drawn early Christian communities seeking both solitude and security. The church remains invisible at ground level, present only in the historical record and the contours of the land.