Clamber up to the rocky summit and you're rewarded with dramatic views of the moor (and, when we went, the rising moon).
Oddly for a working church, the porch is covered in graffiti, some of it quite old.
The church is dedicated to St Michael, as were the ruins at Glastonbury and Burrow Mump, and as so many high places have shrines dedicated to the saint, some have speculated that this was a concerted effort by the Church to put a stop to lingering pagan practices (St Michael famously stands triumphant over Satan).
The fact that you can draw a straight line between Glastonbury Tor, Burrow Mump and Brentor, and, moreover, one that points in the direction of the May Day sunrise, struck the writer John Michell as more than coincidental. As I've blogged about before, he posited that here was a major ley-line, a piece of pre-Christian technology if you will, that directed earth energy up country towards a harmonious end.
Craggy, desolate, a little bit haunted, Brentor remains a numinous place.