Sisters whose brothers doubtless lay dead in and about the walls of
the doomed city, now sang songs of joy in the midst of their weeping,
because there would be an end to war.

The strongest and finest men of Israel had given their lives for their
country, but now, thank God! there would be an end to war.

The fall of Damascus meant the end of a hundred and fifty years' war,
commenced by Ben-hadad I, of Syria, against Israel, long before
Jeroboam's great-grandfather established the dynasty of Jehu on the
throne of Israel.

It meant even more than that; it meant the end of Syrian oppression,
and, perhaps, a period of peace to the long-troubled and war-ridden
kingdom of Israel.

No wonder, then, that there were feasts of rejoicing and full-throated
cries:


"Damascus has fallen! Long live King Jeroboam!"
"Damascus has fallen! Long life to the house of Jehu!"

All day and all night Samaria swarmed with people. The streets were
thronged with shouting men and women who had come from Geba and
Dothan, and even from Jezreel on the north, and from Schechem and
Shiloh and Bethel on the south, to help celebrate the great victory.

Sacrifices were brought at all the sanctuaries of Israel--in Bethel,
in Dan, in Gilgal, in Beersheba.