What survives is the footprint of a modest rectangular structure, roughly ten metres by eight, built in uncoursed rubble, sitting at the centre of a rectangular graveyard enclosed by a modern wall. The informal name clings to the ruins, but the site is more plausibly identified with the Abbey of Ballkine, a connection noted by the historian Ronan in 1927. The disjunction between the grand-sounding name and the modest, fragmented reality is part of what makes the place quietly arresting.

The graveyard itself spans roughly fifty metres east to west and thirty-five metres north to south, and within the ruined walls of the church the centuries have accumulated in an oddly compressed way. Several mid-eighteenth and early nineteenth-century headstones stand or lie inside the church outline, as if the building's collapse was simply absorbed into the continuing life of the burial ground. More striking still are two early medieval graveslabs that were recovered here. One, measuring over one and a half metres in length, remains on site, its upper face carved with a full-length ringed openwork cross, a style characteristic of early Christian stonework in Ireland. The second slab, which carries a ringed interlace cross and an inscription reading OROIT DO FACHTAIN, has long since left Wicklow. The phrase oroit do, meaning "a prayer for", is a conventional Old Irish formula found on early medieval memorial stones, asking passers-by to pray for the named individual. In this case, that individual was someone called Fachtain. The slab was documented by Braybrook in 1879 to 1881 and is now held at the National Museum of Ireland in Dublin.