There's no right or wrong side in the debate between high magic and low magic campaigns, only personal preference. If you're lucky, everyone in your group swings the same way. I've always leaned toward low magic campaigns. I don't expect to convert anyone who feels differently, but I can lay out the reasons why I tilt the way I do.
Before getting into the details, though--when I talk about low and high magic, I'm referring chiefly to how many magic items a character can expect to encounter and accrue during a career of adventuring. A secondary concern is the prevalence of magic-using NPCs. Player-character wizards are to be expected, but is yours an exceptional figure, or did he graduate 48th in a class of 650 that year at the wizard academy?
My preference starts with the influences that brought me to FRPGs in the first place. I "discovered" fantasy as an adult genre when an insightful high school English teacher steered me toward The Lord of the Rings, a distinctly low-magic tale. The magic of Middle Earth is subtle and seldom used--so unlike the structure of D&D that it's hard to mirror LotR with the D&D rules.
Tolkien led me to the tales of Conan, Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser, Corum, and Elric. In those stories, magic was more often the problem than the solution. Magic was used by villains, not by heroes. Odds are high that magic was what twisted the villain into a bad guy in the first place. He didn't turn to magic because he was evil; he turned evil because he placed his faith in magic. Elric was a powerful wizard, but even he seldom used magic openly because of the risk involved. With that sort of reputation, it's no surprise that magic users in those fictional worlds were shunned, mistrusted, and rare.
The second reason is that I like plenty of historical seasoning in my fantasy. Pseudohistory plays best when magic can't be had by the bucketful.
Third, restricting the characters' access to magic places greater emphasis on their personal grit. Many obstacles and puzzles become meaningless when characters can just activate their flying boots, turn invisible with their magic helmets, or command their omnipotent swords to sniff out the villain's weaknesses.
Fourth, rare magic is wondrous magic. Things that we're exposed to every day lose their luster; ask anyone who lives in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains, or who never had to do Christmas shopping without the internet. If your character has just one or two magic items, you're going to appreciate them a lot more than if he has an entire head-to-toe magical panoply and a magical weapon for every monster, plus a few dozen more enchanted items rattling around in the bottom of the bag of holding like toys that he's outgrown but still keeps in a box in the corner of his bedroom. A dozen magical items are ornaments; one or two magical items define your character.
This doesn't mean that I don't like characters to have access to magic. It means that when I'm the DM, I give out precious few magical weapons and armors. I'm less stingy with wondrous items, because they carry an air of uniqueness and they foster creativity. A gem of seeing or a rope of entanglement generates far more fun than a +2 sword any day.
Consumables are my favorite magical treasures. They won't throw the campaign out of whack, because eventually they'll be used up. If you want characters to fight mummies, don't present them with a rack of +1 weapons; give them vials of blessing oil instead. They'll have a great fight, and you won't regret the mummy thing the next time you try to set up an interesting fight against wolves. Consumables can do anything that permanent items can do; forget the narrow limits in the rules.
Best of all, instead of making players complacent, the way permanent magic items do, consumables force players to make hard decisions. Should you drink the potion of giant strength before fighting the umber hulks, or are even more dangerous things waiting farther down the tunnel? The charm person scroll will get what you want from the king's seneschal, but it might be more useful when you confront the bandit chief. The necklace of fireballs has only three charges; do we really need to use one in this fight?
Those are enjoyable problems for the players to tackle, and they play best when characters are always critically short on magic juice. That's my position, anyway. Where do you stand?